Resident Evil Souls Of The Dead
by Ashura Gend
Summary: Read and you'll see, ok ok it's about ClaireSteve it's my first fanfic so be gentle Chp 50 up. PLEASE R N R, I CAN'T STRESS THIS ENOUGH!
1. Life Is Never Easy

Disclaimer- I do not own Resident Evil (although it would be nice to), however any characters that I've made up are mine, and mine alone!  
  
  
  
Kitana- Just to add something, this fanfic is actually from Resident Evil: Code Veronica from the DREAMCAST (cos in the dreamcast Steve died!)  
  
  
  
Resident Evil- Souls Of The Dead  
  
1  
  
  
  
It was always the same; he would lie back on the bed and close his eyes waiting for her. He wore nothing except dark blue jeans. His chest was bare and looked so soft and smooth, his beautiful red cropped hair fanned out onto the black sheets, he smiled already knowing she was there admiring him from the distance. He was so close, but yet so far to her. She could almost reach out and touch his smooth pale skin. However if she indulged her fantasy then her heart would surely break forever.  
  
  
  
He opened his eyes, sparkling gem like blue eyes stared out to her, enticing her in. Claire had to go to him and feel what she almost had.  
  
  
  
She walked slowly to the edge of the bed and knelt down by it, she didn't want to touch him in case his fragile self would crumb before her eyes and that the wonderful sensations that were building up within her body would fade. However human will is too weak for that, she pursued her desire and reached out her hand towards his naked chest. All she wanted was to feel his warmth and silky skin under her hand.  
  
  
  
His face was still carrying that beautiful smile, his eyes followed her every move, not wanting to lose sight of her. Her eyes met his and all that she could do was smile back. Her hand reached out and met nothing but cold air. And as it always does, he had vanished and the dream that was pure rapture melted away as if it never happened.  
  
  
  
Sadness crept into her mind and she turned to her side curling up into a small ball to cry, yet again, for her loss.  
  
  
  
It had been five months and thirteen days since he died in her arms. She wanted to go back, back to her dream and see him breathe life, go back and feel content even if it was for a fraction of a second. But even that fraction of a second was too dangerous, like a drug, she wouldn't want to let go. It would become an addiction, tearing her up inside, demanding for more and more, never being satisfied.  
  
  
  
Sleep never came easy for her and so she sat up staring endlessly at the far wall thinking, only about him.  
  
  
  
Steve Burnside.  
  
  
  
Ever since she returned from the Antarctic her life just went down hill. Her soul didn't feel like doing anything, but only to think of the last few seconds she had with Steve before he…h-he, she couldn't do it. After now, the thought was too much to bear.  
  
  
  
Her room was a tip, papers, scraps of papers were scattered all over the floor. They all contained something on Umbrella Corp, any little thing. Her obsession to annihilate Umbrella had only strengthened with the death of Steve.  
  
  
  
Oh she had that blood lust even without her loss, but it just increased her thirst a whole lot more.  
  
  
  
Umbrella had to go down; it was the only way to stop their destruction. However something plagued her, all this time she or her brother never knew who was behind it all. Who were the ones allowing all this suffering to happen?  
  
  
  
Whoever it was, they were evil sons of bitches.  
  
  
  
Suddenly there was a faint knock at the door Claire froze for a second. She slowly opened up a draw on her bedside and pulled out a G-lock. Her skills in weaponry had increased a lot since her first encounter with Umbrella, and she would never go anywhere or be anywhere without a weapon of some sort.  
  
  
  
Claire slid out of the sheets and stood by the wall. Her apartment wasn't the greatest in the world; it was a tiny place, liveable at least and had an escape route by the back window. It led right down to the busy streets below.  
  
  
  
She lowered the sound of her breathing and walked slowly towards the door. Her heart was racing, she felt like she was going to choke. Even now, she could never get used to all this danger.  
  
  
  
"Claire!" yelled a voice behind the wooden door, "Open up damnit!" It only had to be one person, Chris.  
  
  
  
She lowered the gun and opened the door, "What's your problem? Do you want everyone to know who I am?" he smiled and pushed passed her.  
  
  
  
"Nice to see you too sis," he said still smiling.  
  
  
  
"Yeah, yeah," she never really had patience for him, "So where's Leon?"  
  
  
  
"Checking out some leads," he sighed, "You remember the Paris facility you infiltrated?" She gave him a slight nod, "Well it doesn't exist. There's nothing. Just a huge plot of land ready for construction of houses!"  
  
  
  
"What?!" she gasped, "That can't be!" she sighed already knowing that Umbrella was up to their tricks again.  
  
  
  
"It is, we asked around. The locals never heard of an 'Umbrella'. We're fucked!"  
  
  
  
Claire stood in silence, "What are we going to do?" she said looking up at him.  
  
  
  
"Maybe Leon has something." 


	2. Say What!

Kitana- I know I know this chapter is kinda short, think of it as an interlude if you could… (maybe?).  
  
  
  
2  
  
  
  
Leon stood underneath the railroad tracks. It had been three hours waiting for the source.  
  
  
  
What the fuck I'm I doing there? Three fucking hours…I must be stupid!  
  
  
  
The night was cool and the silent pita patter of rain began to fall, Leon grimaced, he just had enough of everything for one day.  
  
  
  
Firstly the sources he investigated today were all gone; it was surprise, since they were on the same quest as he was.  
  
  
  
Nevertheless, there was always someone ready to talk…for the right price that is.  
  
  
  
Leon leant back into the darkness huddling within his black jacket, no matter what he had to wait. It would be their only hope in obliterating Umbrella.  
  
  
  
Suddenly he saw a dark figure in the darkness; it began to walk slowly towards him. He fell gently back towards the wall and pulled out his gun. He had a bad feeling that something wasn't right; maybe it was the constant thought of Umbrella's psychotic faction who seemed to have a 'thing' with pain and death. Or it just could be him.  
  
  
  
The figure walked closer until they were in the light of the moon. She caught a glimpse of the gun and stopped in her tracks, "Hello," she called out, a little on edge, "It's me," she whispered holding up her hands.  
  
  
  
Leon lowered his gun and released a breath he didn't know he was holding. He walked out of the darkness and grabbed a hold of her arm dragging her and him into the cover of the dark again.  
  
  
  
"Sorry about that, just a precaution," he whispered, "Do you have it?"  
  
  
  
She smiled, actually she grinned, "First off, where is my money?" she said lighting up a cigarette. She puffed it in and released a cloud of smoke, "Do you mind?" she said smiling.  
  
  
  
Leon didn't answer, what was the point since she lit it anyway?  
  
  
  
"Here's your money," he opened up his jacket pulling out a brown envelope. She snatched it off him and examined the contents, "You don't trust me?"  
  
  
  
Her eyes met his, "It's not personal, I don't trust anyone," shoving the envelope into her handbag, she pulled out another one, an A4 sized envelop, "Everything in here should be sufficient," she commented handing it towards him, "Now if you don't mind, I'll be off. It was nice doing business with you."  
  
  
  
He grabbed her hand pulling her in, "Not so fast," he said.  
  
  
  
Her eyes widen, but then she smiled, "You don't trust me?" she said innocently.  
  
  
  
Leon laughed, "It's not personal, I don't trust anyone." 


	3. Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows

3  
  
  
  
"Right here!" Leon pointed at the map, "This is the real headquarters, not the one in Paris."  
  
  
  
Claire looked down at the map; it showed the lay out of Umbrella's main headquarters, "Raccoon City!! You got to be kidding!? Of all the places on the face of the planet, Umbrella's main headquarters are in Raccoon City?!"  
  
  
  
Leon sat down and only nodded, Raccoon City, the thorn in his, no their sides. It all started there; well for Claire and Leon, but for Chris it started before that.  
  
  
  
Claire sat down next to Leon and sighed, she gazed at the floor plans, the entrance to the underground facility was located in a mansion not to far from the city. From the plans that lay on the table the place looked huge and impenetrable, "From the looks of it, the place seems very secure," she sighed rubbing her eyes, "It'll be tight getting in."  
  
  
  
Chris lent back on the wooden chair, "The easy bit will be getting in, the hard bit is getting out," he said quietly while looking out of the window. His mind wondered a bit, it was autumn and the leaves were beginning to fall to the ground. He caught sight of a single leaf falling gracefully towards the ground; it seemed so peaceful that he just didn't feel like going into the anarchy all over again.  
  
  
  
If he didn't, who will? Are there others out there who knew as much as he does of what Umbrella getup to? Yes and maybe no, who knew? He just felt it deep within his self that he had to do this, maybe to give his mind peace or something.  
  
  
  
"It's decided then," Leon boomed, "We're going back to Raccoon City, fitting to end it where it started."  
  
  
  
Leon's ounce of cheeriness was beginning to piss her off, "Would you please stop being so damned confident! This is Umbrella we're talking about, if we go in there 100% confident in bring those fuckers down then we haven't got a chance in hell of coming out alive."  
  
  
  
Chris turned from the window and faced Claire and Leon, his face was very serious, it didn't suit him at all, what he was about say, was something he never knew he would ever do. Maybe it was because Umbrella ruined his and his friend's lives, not to mention all that perished by Umbrella's hands. Or was it that Jill Valentine vanished after their first encounter with Umbrella? Maybe.  
  
  
  
"Even if we do succeed, the chances of actually escaping are way too low. So maybe this time we won't actually survive. Maybe this is a suicide mission, and I for one will die trying to end Umbrella, once and for all."  
  
  
  
"Chris, are you mad?" she gasped, "You can't be serious? I do not want to die so easily, I want to live my life knowing that Umbrella is finally destroyed."  
  
He smiled then, "That's why I don't want you to come. You're only nineteen Claire. Or you either Leon, I won't make you, it's your choice to make."  
  
  
  
Leon nodded; he understood what Chris was saying. But the thought of all those people destroyed infuriated him and his significant life didn't really matter too many others, "Are you crazy?! You ain't going to get all the credit! I'm in!"  
  
  
  
"So am I!" Claire shouted out, "I don't care what any of you say! I'm going to pay Umbrella back for what they did to Steve!"  
  
  
  
Chris relaxed back in the chair, he didn't object to Claire's decision, although he was her brother, older brother. He just knew it was something she had to do.  
  
  
  
"Still having the nightmares?" he asked quietly.  
  
  
  
She nodded her head, "All the time," she said seriously, "All the time." 


	4. Nightmares

Kitana: This is short but sweet, enjoy!

4

"Claire?" he whispered out, "Claire where are you?" he started panicking, he didn't know where he was or what was going on.

All he knew or wanted was someone familiar he just wanted Claire. To be with him, to make all his worries and pain melt away. But the question was; where was she? His heart rate began to pound strongly and very hard within his chest, and he then realised he was dead, well he knew he died. Why, how and where were clouding his mind, he didn't know. 

His body felt cold, as if he was made out of ice, he couldn't move either, something was forbidding him to. What he did know was something was wrong, it didn't felt right to be where he was. But where was he?

He couldn't remember a single thing, apart from her, her crying, screaming for him. Everything else was blank, a deep endless void with no hope of remembering anything. He opened his eyes, but it hurt too much, he pushed himself anyway. His heart thudded loudly within his chest, he was scare of what he would find, but what would he see? Claire? He doubted it for some reason, where ever he was, it wasn't good, it didn't feel safe. His eyes burned, the cold seemed to push into his face stinging his eyes. He had to see! He had to know!

He opened them slightly and looked, his heart pumped rapidly and it stopped suddenly. Darkness was only his companion, his friend. Nothing was there, absolutely nothing. Anger clouded his mind; he wanted to get out, get out of where ever, now! He panicked screaming and screaming. He stopped, why? Because it didn't help.

But some one had to be there, Claire had to there searching for him. She had to be! 

"Claire!" he screamed across the darkness, "Help me! Oh God Claire, help me! Please."

Nothing really helped; it seemed he was stuck there for what would seem like forever. Claire would never hear his screams she won't come, not now and maybe not ever. 

To her he was dead, lost to her for all eternity. 

And he was left in the darkness screaming; he was left to rot away in the growing coldness of death, with no way of escaping.


	5. Unwanted Past

5  
  
  
  
"Steve!" she cried out, "Steve," she whimpered again. Her heart couldn't take anymore of these dreams; they were tearing her apart inside.  
  
  
  
"Claire you alright?" whispered a voice from the darkness, it was a stupid question, however she replied anyway.  
  
  
  
"Yeah I'm alright. Go back to sleep."  
  
  
  
Leon didn't seem convinced, he walked a few steps closer into her room, "You sure?" he insisted.  
  
  
  
Claire nodded her head, even though he couldn't see her, "Yeah," she repeated, "I'm fine."  
  
  
  
He stood there for one second more before retreating.  
  
Claire sat up and breathed out. Now it would take forever to fall asleep, but that dream was bothering her. More than the others she had before.  
  
It felt and looked so vivid, as if it was really true. That it did happen. Claire laughed, she knew it couldn't be true, Steve was dead and that was that.  
  
  
  
Unless…  
  
  
  
No she wasn't going down that path again, not again. This time it would surely make her go completely crazy.  
  
  
  
She quickly opened a drawer next to her, where her gun laid. However at the back was a small bottle, it was taped inside. She didn't trust anyone, not even Chris or Leon. Well it wasn't that she didn't trust them; only if they accidentally came across it then she would have to answer some questions. And she didn't want to explain to anyone about her business.  
  
  
  
She opened it and shook one pill out, small and white against her warm- blooded skin. Claire stared at it and sighed popping it in her mouth and washing it down with a glass of water.  
  
  
  
They were prescribed drugs, to keep her from 'flipping out', as the doctor put it. They kept her normal, instead of going a little close to the edge. In other words another near mental breakdown.  
  
She nearly killed herself because she didn't accept his death. She had delusions of him. She knew that she had a problem, but even though seeing him for a few seconds made her feel divine again. Just to see him for one last time.  
  
Conversely these delusions were costing her, her mind and eventually she couldn't handle the truth of his death.  
  
  
  
She could still feel the cold metal razors slicing into her veins, unleashing the blood that coursed through them. She was so determined to end it then, and she would have if her thirst for retribution weren't that much more than death.  
  
  
  
Chris, nor did Leon knew about what happened to her. They were investigating leads into Umbrella when she 'flipped out', and it was about two months when she was on the drugs and trying desperately to gain what little of her life back, that she felt a little bit normal again and understood that he was dead.  
  
  
  
She looked down at the wrists; she just could make out the light scars in the dark. She touched them, there were healed, but she could almost feel a slight ache above the veins. She rubbed them gently trying to forget the past. It was the best thing to do. Forget and get on with things.  
  
  
  
She lay back down and closed her eyes, she needed to sleep, but most of all she needed to stop thinking.  
  
  
  
Well at least for the night…  
  
  
  
…If she could. 


	6. Smoke Screen

Kitana – I know, I know It's short…but the next one will be long, maybe a little too long…Anyhow enjoy!  
  
  
6  
  
  
"Wake up sunshine," Claire yelled, "It's a beautiful day." She walked up to the curtains pulling them apart. The sun's rays plunged into the room illumining everything, the warmth felt so pleasant against her skin. She breathed in deeply and felt heavenly, and somewhat very confident.  
  
  
Chris groaned turning to his side, blocking the light from his face with the blanket, "Go away!" he yelled beneath the covers.  
  
  
Claire smiled, she wasn't easily defeated, and so she walked towards the bed thrusting the covers off, "Get up Chris, Leon and I are up". She peered closer and noticed a bottle, "What the hell is that?"   
  
  
Chris faced her, "It's called a bottle. Can you say bottle Claire?"   
  
  
She wasn't amused, "HA HA. Get up you bum," she hissed grabbing onto the bottle, "You got half an hour to get ready. I suggest you have a shower, you stink of alcohol. Now get up!"   
  
  
He sat up half awake, "Would you please stop shouting!" His mind was ringing from Claire's excessive shouting. Just thinking or breathing made his head hurt. He turned to his back adapting to the sunlight, he wished it was gloomy or at least cloudy. He didn't want to feel like this on a sunny day, it would just make the banging in his head louder.   
  
  
Then out of nowhere a small cardboard box landed on his chest "Here," Claire said, "Take two with some water, and hurry up a bit please we haven't got all year!" she placed the glass on his bedside table, gave a dirty and then walked out again.  
Chris sat in silence; he grabbed the box and opened it up. He popped two aspirins out and placed them his mouth.   
Unfortunately they wouldn't kick in until after an hour or so. After washing them down, he got up and walked into the bathroom.   
  
  
Leon sat in the kitchen, Claire's apartment was small but it was a nice place. He gazed down at his breakfast as if he was a starved dog, "Well don't just stare at it! Eat it!" Claire called over.  
  
  
He smiled and then tucked in.  
  
  
Claire came and sat opposite him; she stared down at her juice and pondered. She didn't really feel hungry she was just tried. Leon looked up and saw Claire looking very distant, "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.  
  
  
Claire's eyes were the only thing that moved, "Nothing, why do you ask?"   
  
  
He looked down at his breakfast again, "You just not the same anymore. You're distant and well last night, you scared the shit out of me."  
  
  
Claire smiled, it was nice to know he cared so much about her, "Leon stop worrying yourself, I'm fine, ok?"  
  
  
He played with his food, losing his appetite, "No," he shook his head, "I don't believe you. It's…well…it's Steve isn't it?"  
  
  
Claire smile faded, "No why do you say that?" her eyes never moved from him at all. She needed to know if he noticed anything about her.  
  
  
"Apart from last night? Where you screamed out his name, I found something. Now before you get angry it was by accident-"   
  
  
He didn't need to say anymore, Claire was already pissed off, "You did what?!" she bellowed. She could almost feel her scars aching; she rubbed the sleeves over them trying to stop the pain.  
She just couldn't believe Leon, "Who the fuck do you think you are?! It's none of your business! So keep your fucking nose out of it!!" She stood up glaring at him with narrowed disgust eyes. However she sat back down and tried to calm herself, "Are you going to tell Chris?" plain and simple, but to the point.  
  
  
Leon stared at her, "No," he simply said, "As you have said it's not my business, but Claire it was an accident. I wasn't prying I wouldn't do that. I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I'm really sorry."   
  
  
She nodded her head, almost accepting his apology, "Fine, but as long as you don't tell Chris."  
  
  
Again Leon shook his head, "You can trust me."   
  
  
"What the hell is all the arguing about?" groaned Chris, "Can't there be any peace in this place?"  
  
  
He sat in between Leon and Claire, "So? What's going on?"   
  
  
Claire fell silent, but Leon spoke, "Oh nothing, just something stupid that's all."   
  
  
Chris stared from one to the other and grinned, "Oh I see," he laughed.  
  
  
Claire stood up, "Think what you like Chris, it's all bullshit," she hissed, "Here," she said dumping a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, "Enjoy," she laughed, knowing exactly he wouldn't stand the sight of food so early in the morning and with the hangover.  
  
  
Chris groaned again, pushing the plate as far away from him as possible, "You really can be a bitch sometimes."  
  
  
She smirked, "It takes one to know one." 


	7. Decision Time

Kitana- Right this is very short, but I promise the next chapter is long! Enjoy!  
  
  
7  
  
  
Leon, Chris and Claire sat in the kitchen. The information Leon received from the source were scattered all over the table. Plans of the secret facility, security plans, things like that. However something was really bothering her about all the information, it was too easy. The source that gave the information couldn't actually have gotten all the plans so easily. Could she?   
Unless it was a trap by Umbrella, but why? Claire was sure that Umbrella could easily dispose of them if they wished.   
  
  
Leon and Chris were discussing parts of the plans when Claire had to share her thoughts, "Has anyone thought that all this could be-"  
  
  
Leon cut her off, "A trap?"  
Claire smiled, he could almost read her mind some of the time, "Yeah."  
  
  
He smiled back, "Well then we could always not go. If it is a trap we don't really know unless-"  
  
  
Claire cut him off this time, "We go?"  
  
  
Leon laughed, "Yeah," and Claire joined him.  
  
  
With the disappearance of Ada Wong, his heart never healed, even though he only knew her for two or three days he loved her and would still love her. However Claire had always been there, as a friend, but his feelings seemed to grow for her after the Raccoon City incident. Leon never really told Claire the full story about him and Ada, but it didn't matter, somehow Claire understood his need for secrecy.  
  
  
They stared at each other across the table. Claire liked him, but only as a close friend. She just couldn't let go of Steve, she just couldn't. Although Leon liked her more than a friend, but he understood how she felt about Steve.  
  
  
"Well, yes...err anyways getting back to the current situation," interrupted Chris.  
  
  
Claire returned to reality, she felt a little embarrassed; however Leon looked pleased, as if he knew something that she didn't.  
  
  
"As we were saying, yes this could be a trap however it couldn't. There is only one way to find out," Chris said, breaking away from the silence, "Raccoon City is not too far away. Only about three days drive. But before we get there we need to go shopping."  
  
  
Claire faced him and smiled, "Shopping? Excellent! When can we go?"  
  
  
"Now, there is a friend that can get us anything we want. That is, any weapon we want." 


	8. Trouble In Paradise

Kitana- I think this is TOO long!! Well I promised long and you fine people will get long!! Enjoy (as always!)  
  
8  
  
"Where the hell is this place already?!" Claire laid back into the back seat of the car. She had just had about enough; Chris wasn't saying anything about the place he was taking them, other than it was far away.  
  
  
"Chris?" she moaned.  
  
  
"What?!" he yelled, "Claire would you please bear with me for a moment? We're almost there!"  
  
  
She narrowed her eyes and sat up forward, "There is no need to raise your voice Christopher!"   
  
  
Leon sniggered, "Christopher," he muttered still laughing.  
  
  
Chris slowly turned his vision from the rear view mirror to Leon and glared at him, "What make something of it Leonard?"  
  
  
"Three words Christopher, Bring-it-on!"  
  
  
"Leon SHUT UP! Chris SHUT UP and DRIVE!" Claire fumed, "Just shut up the both of you!"   
  
  
Fifteen minutes of silence passed and finally, as well to everyone's content, Chris stopped the car. He turned round and stared at Claire, "You happy now? We're here!"  
  
  
All three got out of the car, "That building over there," Chris pointing to an old and very rundown building, "Don't be fooled by the look of it, it's actually a 24/7 club." They walked up towards the door. It was three inches thick rusted iron door, there was a rectangular hole, and it slid open when Chris knocked on the metal.   
  
  
"What?" called a voice behind it.  
  
  
Chris smiled, "Tell Freddy its Chris."   
And that was all it took, the door screeched open and there stood the biggest bouncer ever to walk the earth. For such a rough looking guy he didn't lose any of his charm when he saw Claire, he smiled sweetly at her, but Claire didn't really care, she stared up at him with a totally blank face and walked passed. Chris followed behind with Leon.  
  
  
"Freddy said wait here," muttered the bouncer before walking down some steps.  
  
  
"Damn Chris! Where the hell do you meet these people?" she whispered.  
  
  
"Ah they're not so bad, although I advise you to stay away from them," he replied.  
  
  
From the bottom of the steps was a door, the same brand that was used for the entrance. It too screeched when it opened and out popped the bouncer's head, "He'll see you now…but only you. The other two can wait in the club."  
  
  
Chris glanced at Claire, "You'll be alright?"   
  
  
She smiled, "You perfectly know that I can take care of myself. The question is: Will you be alright?"  
  
  
He shook his head slightly, a little bit annoyed with her, "Leon look after her please. I don't want to come back and find her starting something that she can't handle ok?"  
  
Leon smiled; he walked closer to Claire wrapping an arm round her waist, "Of course," he said in his too cheerful manner, "I can baby-sit for awhile."   
  
  
"Good. Now behave you two," he laughed and walked down the steps towards the door.  
  
  
"Get your arm off me," she said glaring into his face.  
  
  
He smirked, "But it's so nice here…" he sighed.  
  
  
She quietly took out her handgun and placed it under his chin, "I repeat, get your arm off me Leon, now!"  
  
  
"Meow," he mocked while removing his arm, "My, my Claire you're not so easily pissed, why so angry?"  
  
  
"Oh shut up, let's go."  
  
  
She walked down the steps and towards the door, as she grew closer to it she could almost hear loud thumping sounds. She opened it up and walked through.  
  
  
Hot, dark and loud – the three things she hated the most in a club, she quickly moved to the bar and ordered a drink. Even before she got to the counter she knew the bartender wouldn't ask for I.D, she looked older than she already was, "Rum and coke," she yelled.  
  
  
Leon sat next to her, "Make that two."  
  
  
He was really irritating her, but she was also thankful for the distraction, "I hope he doesn't take long I'm getting sick of this place," she whispered so that the bartender wouldn't hear although he couldn't hear since the deafening music was playing in the background.  
  
  
He came up to the bar and placed their drinks in front of them, "That'll be twelve dollars," he said.  
  
  
Before Claire could even open her mouth Leon moved in, "Here," he said to the man behind the bar. Claire reached out her hand and stopped him.  
  
  
"I can pay," she hissed, "I don't need you to help me."  
  
  
Leon frowned, "Ahh for God sake Claire! It's just a fricking drink!"  
  
  
She stared at him hard, he was right it was only a drink. She just didn't need anyone helping her; she could handle and do things on her own.   
  
  
Her hand stayed were it was. The bartender shifted impatiently.  
"Hey lady, are you going to let your boyfriend pay? Or are you going to pay?"  
  
  
She looked up at him hard and then back to Leon. He kind of understood her; she didn't want to 'owe' anyone. He tried to reassure her, "Look if I pay this time you can pay for the next one."  
  
  
Claire's facial expression softened, "Ok," she said reluctantly, and with that she removed her hand from his.  
  
  
He smiled and brought the drinks forward, "Here," he said.  
  
  
She pushed herself to smile, "Thanks," she said sipping her drink.   
  
  
Claire sat on her stool stirring the contents of her glass with a tall thin glass rod; it had been half an hour since Chris went to see 'Freddy'. Leon sat quietly beside her he was behaving himself for once, which was a tad strange, maybe he too was fed up with Chris. His glass was empty and the bartender was looking at him strangely. He placed the glass he was cleaning down and moved closer to Leon, "Hey if you gonna sit here at least order a drink or something, or get out."  
  
  
Leon looked up as if he saw him for the first time, "Excuse me?" he said.  
  
  
"You heard me," he straightened himself back.  
  
  
Claire stared at the bartender and then behind Leon, she saw some men walking closer to the bar. They leant on the bar and glanced at Leon's direction. They seemed to in on what the bartender was doing. They were going to cause trouble, but why? Where they stupid thugs or was there a hidden agenda? Her paranoia was at its peak so it had to be stupid thugs. Most of the time she couldn't trust her paranoia, every second of the day it was there lingering inside her mind taking over her life. She lived with it up to now, but it was time for a change. She decided that not all people were involved with Umbrella.   
  
  
How evil they were.   
  
  
They moved from the edge of the bar towards Leon. There were two of them. They looked liked they were in their early twenty's, punk kids with nothing better to do. Maybe they were friends with the bartender, maybe not. Who knew and who really gave a shit? Certainly not Claire she was too busy seeing if things were going to escalate any further. But she knew that answer already.  
  
  
"Is there a problem?" said one of the thugs; he placed his hand over Leon's shoulder. Leon sat still, although it was so apparent in his face that he didn't like it one bit. Claire grasped onto her gun within her trouser pocket tightly. She would use it if possible, however it all depended if Leon needed back up.   
  
  
She glanced at him and he shook his head slightly. She relaxed barely, however she kept an eye out just in case one of them played dirty, which was going to be a sure bet.  
  
  
The bartender moved forward, he stretched his hands out onto the bar and faced Leon, "Yep there is. This one refuses to leave."  
  
  
The guy's hold over Leon tightened, "Really?"  
  
  
"Yeah really," replied the bartender smiling.  
  
  
"Oh dear that is a misfortune," he said looking at Leon, "On your behalf that is."  
  
  
Through the whole time this was going on Leon played it cool, he didn't seem the kind of person to get involved within a fight, unless it was absolutely necessary.  
  
  
The other one turned to Claire; he saw her staring consistently at them, "Is this your girlfriend?" asked the guy behind Leon.   
  
  
"Yeah," interrupted the bartender, "She came with him."  
  
  
The other lackey moved round Claire, "Nice," he said. Claire frowned up at him.  
  
  
Leon jerked forward, his face was still blank, however it was in his eyes that showed his worry, and he didn't want anything happening to Claire. Not because he had to face Chris, but that she would be hurt and he wasn't there to protect her from them. He would never forgive himself if anything did happen to her.  
  
  
The guy behind Leon shoved him back into his stool viciously, "Now, now there's no reason to get violent," he leant forward so that only Leon could hear him, "However something will happen to her if you don't cooperate with us."  
  
  
Leon faced the back of the bar; his anger was growing with every second. He really didn't want to start anything with the guy; however he would love to beat the shit out of him at that very moment.  
  
He calmly looked at Claire; she stared at him for a moment trying to anticipate his expression, "Claire would you kind enough to show this fine gentleman what he'll expect with you?"  
  
  
She smirked grasping tightly over the metal of the gun, "Sure," she said, "Come closer," she smiled to the guy next to her.  
  
  
The idiot actually smiled back, he moved closer to Claire. He was so close she could almost feel the warm of his body. She looked up at him and winked. And with her right hand within her trouser pocket she pulled out the gun placing it under his chin. He froze as the cool metal touched his skin.  
  
  
"Now if I was you don't move," she hissed, "I don't want brain all over my clean top. The stains would be hell."  
  
  
Leon smiled, he turned back to the guy behind him, "You want to make something of me now?" He laid his gun gently on his lap.   
  
  
The guy backed up, sweat rolled down his forehead, "Hey man," he whimpered holding up his hands, "Can't you take a joke?"  
  
  
Leon simply laughed in his face, "You best be very careful who you deal with. Next time you wouldn't be so lucky."  
  
  
He turned to Claire, "Claire you can put it away now."  
  
  
She laughed bitterly, "You ain't the boss of me," she said.  
  
  
The guy, she was still aiming at, was sweating violently, he stared down at her and every time he gulped she pushed the gun into his chin that bit more.  
  
  
"Come on Claire his gonna shit his pants if you keep this up," Leon said calmly.  
  
  
"Sweetheart if you move a muscle I'm gonna blow lover boy over here, but please make my day and move," the bartender held a saw-off shotgun straight at Leon's side. Leon let his guard down which was a stupid mistake.  
  
  
Claire eyed him quickly; she was in a bad situation. But it was Leon, he was a son of a bitch most of the time, would she care if he shot him? Maybe, well yeah she did, a lot.  
  
  
Leon was quiet; the bartender poked him in the side, "Well? What's it gonna be sweetheart?"  
  
  
She narrowed her eyes and faced him, "For one stop fucking calling me 'sweetheart' and two I'm thinking damnit!"  
  
  
At the side of the club about a few metres away from the bar a door opened up and in walked Chris, as he saw the silenced crowd he walked quickly to see what all the commotion was about.   
  
  
"What the fuck is going on?" he said standing in front of them, "I leave you two for five minutes and you raise hell. What the fuck is wrong with you?"  
  
  
"Chris darling if you opened those little eyes of yours you realise that it WASN'T ARE FUCKING FAULT!" she yelled.  
  
  
Chris turned back and called out to a man, "Freddy tell your lackey to cool it."  
  
  
Freddy seemed to have nodded his head, "Samuel stop being a fucking prick and remove that shotgun," he said, "And please Claire remove your weapon, the man is pissing himself, have a heart. I do apologise for his behaviour."  
  
  
Claire faced the shadowy Freddy and then the guy in front of her, "You sack of shit," she spate as she remove the gun from him. He backed away, almost stumbling, from her. She smiled, her work was done.  
  
  
The bartender glared at Leon before removing the shotgun away, "Next time will be different."  
  
  
Leon just smiled, "There won't be a next time." 


	9. Memories Die Hard

9  
  
  
The afternoon air gilded softly across the street towards her, it was a bit chilly however it was needed after the last few hours stuck in an over crowded club. It was also a very welcoming change from the place.  
  
  
Claire leant back by the wall and took out a pack of cigarettes; she placed one behind her ear while replacing the pack back into her coat pocket. She took out her gold lighter and just stared silently, and then Rodrigo came in her mind for no apparent reason. It was just seeing the lighter again made her think of Rockford Island and the pain of losing Steve. She cursed mentally unable to release the thoughts of the past. But how could she?   
  
  
Time, time would be her saviour…hopefully.  
  
  
She grasped the lighter tightly within her fingers and closed her eyes.   
  
  
"What's wrong Claire?"  
  
  
She opened them again and stared at Chris, and then giving a faint smile she took the cigarette from her ear and lit it. Inhaling a long puff of smoke she released it. White smoke flowed delicately through the air.   
  
  
For something so deadly it looked so beautiful.   
  
  
"Claire?" called Chris.  
  
  
She turned to him, "I'm fine."  
  
  
Unconvinced, as usual, he asked again. She simply didn't want to get into an argument or something like that with him. He was too exhausting.  
  
  
"Claire, ever since Leon and I got back you've been, well acting very strangely. I know that it's going to be hard adjusting to life after Rockford and the Antarctic, and well losing Steve. But in there you were so aggressive."  
  
  
She inhaled the cigarette again, "Look Chris, don't tell me how to act or live my life! You're not my father!"  
  
  
He stood up and laughed bitterly at her, "Yeah you're right I'm not your father, but it beats being a bitch."   
  
  
He was right, yet again, she was acting strangely.   
  
  
The thing was she didn't really care about life any more. Maybe that was why she acted so aggressively and careless back in the club. After Steve there wasn't anything worth living. Her studying went down hill and she eventually left collage. She only looked forward to drinking or crying herself to sleep. No one knew anything about her depression or near suicide. The counsellor tried his best to get down to the cause of the problems, but Claire wasn't willingly to tell about the events that happened to her. He almost recommended her to stay in a mental institute for observation and therapy, however Claire objected to it. She didn't want to go back into a mental institute again; after her parents died she had delusions and outbursts that resulted her to an institute.   
  
  
It took a year for her to get her life back.  
  
  
And it wasn't a pleasant year in that institute.   
  
  
Just as the thoughts were probing back into her head Leon stood in front of her, his eyebrow rose, "Never knew you were the type to smoke."  
  
  
She glanced at him and then took another mouthful of the toxic air and blew, "Didn't know you cared so much about my health."  
  
  
He pushed his chocolate brown hair back, sweat trailed down his face. His blue crew neck t-shirt seemed to stick to his body outlining his firm and almost muscular chest and stomach. He looked amazing and quite attractive for once. She didn't know if he was growing on her or she was seeing him in a new light. It was the latter since his mentality was still irritating, even though he looked sexy.   
  
  
It had to be the weather affecting her, it was strange that it was so hot for autumn, only had to be one thing, global warming. There goes the planet, not only did she have to cope with pollution, she would have to put up with all the humans out there bent on destruction, one example would be Umbrella. It looked bleak for Earth, but that was how life was. Bleak.   
  
  
Everyday appeared to be doubtful.   
  
  
"I care," he said in defence, "The thing is you don't notice."  
  
  
She smiled to that, "I'm not blind Leon," she tapped the side of the half burnt cigarette; the grey-white ashes fell soundlessly down to the floor. The caress of the wind blew them away.  
  
  
"You sure about that?" he grinned.  
  
  
"You never stop, do you?"   
  
  
"Moi?" he placed a hand to his chest as if shocked by her remark, "I am a hundred percent gentleman," he bowed sweeping his arm to his side.  
  
  
Claire laughed, "We best get inside I don't think Chris will appreciate the delay," she threw the remaining cigarette to the floor, it glowed red before dimming to nothing.   
  
  
"Ladies first," he smirked standing by her side, she obliged since she wasn't in the greatest moods to argue over a petty thing.   
  
  
She past him, feeling the briefest touch of his body, he did that on purpose. She stopped right in front of him, her body still touching his gently. He took it upon himself to make the next move, he progressed further leaning that much more into her body as if to kiss her.   
  
  
She shifted back, shook her head and muttered, "Perve," before walking back into the club.  
  
  
Freddy sat behind a desk; one arm crossed over his belly the other holding a short crystal glass filled to the brim with a light brown liquid. Had to be whiskey or maybe Scotch, its aroma pierced the room. It wasn't strong; it gave the warm room a deep smell, not like a brewery a little lighter than that. He leant back into the chair and shifted his legs and boots over to the table and rested them. He waited patiently for his customers to decide what, of his vast merchandise, to buy.  
  
  
There were three tables, apart from his desk, within the small office. There was a low thudding sound emitting from the door at the back of the room, it was the club's music. It wasn't loud; it was the vibrations of the sounds that were maddening. Two of the three tables were on his left and the other on his far right. Each table had a sample of each weapon that could be purchased from him. The young girl in the white top stood close to the far right table perched over a grenade launcher, she had taste. She held her coat in one hand and used the other to feel her interested item. Her light brown hair lay gently around her shoulders. He watched her closely, her chest moved up and down slowly as she viewed each weapon carefully.   
  
  
Freddy sipped his drink.   
  
  
She wore tight black jeans; the material was so tight that it outlined her rear end. The top lay just above her bottom, it wasn't tight and it wasn't loose, but it fitted her body like a dream. He liked her, she was young, fresh, tough and, unfortunately, sister to Chris.  
  
  
He turned his attention to the brother and the other man; they too viewed the contents of the table with great enthusiasm. Chris was particularly interested with the Magnum. He grasped his whole hand round the weapon as if to get a feel for it.   
  
  
Dangerous man.   
  
  
Especially if his family was messed with.  
  
  
The other young man stood about a few inches away from Chris, he held in his hand a XM1014 shotgun. His eyes were wide with fascination; he seemed to be a guy who knew his weapons. He placed the weapon down and hovered over two wrist sheaths. Inside each wristband were two knives, small but sharp enough to slice flesh deeply. The silver of the four knives glinted, the man didn't pick it up; instead he picked up a gun. A Desert Eagle .50AE to be precise. It was a good choice, a very good choice.  
  
  
The man knew his stuff. 


	10. Chris' Ultimatum

Kitana- Maybe it's a little too short, oh well…  
  
  
10  
  
  
"You know the deal Freddy," Chris said, "Or do you wish for a reminder?"  
  
  
Freddy sat up properly; he laid the empty glass on a coaster. He pushed the chair forward and sat comfortably, "Can the record Chris. I've heard it all before."  
  
  
Chris stood close to the edge of Freddy's desk, "You know I run a business. I'm giving you the C4 for free, and that's killing me badly. But there is no way that I can give you all these weapons for free as well."  
  
  
Chris sighed, "Ok, what's it gonna cost?" It wasn't question he liked to ask, it meant too many things. Too many favours or debts would be attached to this.   
  
  
And old debts die-hard.  
  
  
Freddy smiled, "You know what I'll do? I will give everything for free if I can get some ass."  
  
  
Chris frowned, and it dawned on him that this conversation wasn't going to have a happy ending, "Say what?"  
  
  
"I'll rephrase it for you shall I? I'll give this all," he pointed to the weapons gathered within two cardboard boxes. They couldn't be carried because they were heavy and people would see them. There wasn't any other place apart from the boxes provided, "for free if I can have Claire for one night."  
  
  
He just stood there in silence, Claire frowned and Leon was about to smash Freddy's face in.   
  
  
Chris laughed, a mean spiteful sound, "You expect me to let you sleep with my sister?"  
  
  
"Well if you need this, well of course."  
  
  
Chris moved forward, no one would assume that from him, he grabbed Freddy's shirt and pulled him close, "You still don't know how I work do you?"   
  
  
As if in an instant he used his right hand and reached for his combat knife under his shirt and laid it across his neck, "Are you brave? Or just plain fucking dumb?" He moved the jagged side of the knife in, Freddy gasped and blood trickled down his neck to the collar of his shirt. He gulped, which made the knife move in more.  
  
  
"Chris!" called Claire, "Stop it," she actually wanted Chris to hurt him, but not to the point of killing him. It wasn't Chris he wasn't a murderer. If they couldn't get the arsenal then they would figure something out.  
  
  
He ignored her and carried on, "Now this is what I suggest you'll do. You can give them for free or you can have me push until the metal passes through your neck and out the other side. Oh one thing death isn't immediate."  
  
  
Freddy gulped again, "Ok, ok," he whimpered, "I'll do it."  
  
  
Chris didn't let up; he pulled him closer and whispered, "No funny business, you let us go without any hassle from you or your lackeys."  
  
  
He nodded slightly, scared of the knife at this throat going further into his flesh, "Sure thing Chris."   
  
  
Chris released his hold and stepped back, his heart was pumping quickly, he was never used to being the bad guy. However in this case, he was more than happy to play the part. Freddy had power and money, but he was weak and a piece of shit. He replaced the knife under his shirt and turned to the two behind him.  
  
  
"Ok lets go," he said in a, weirdly, cheerful manner.  
  
  
Leon picked up the two cardboard boxes containing the items and followed behind Chris and Claire, "I suppose we won't be shopping here any time soon then?"  
  
  
"Shut up Leon." 


	11. Ammunitions And Delusions

11  
  
  
Leon sat at the back of the car; Claire and Chris were up in front. The journey out of the club was, thankfully, quick and easy. Freddy kept his promise and didn't pursue the trio. He was one thing, but he always kept his promises. That was his best, and only, quality; the rest of him was shit.  
  
  
Their arsenal laid next to Leon inside the boxes, the metal scraped against metal a few times as Chris turned around some corners. They sat in the car in silence. Claire felt guilty, she was being a cow towards Chris when he only wanted to help and look out for her. She glanced at him and then back out of the window.  
  
  
"It's ok," he said softly, already knowing what was wrong, "I can be a little too pushy sometimes."  
  
  
He glanced down and smiled, she returned one to him and began to feel at ease, "I'll be fine Chris; I just need some time before I can say or explain anything to you."  
  
  
He reached for her hand and squeezed gently, "I understand."  
  
  
He turned the car into the underground parking lot. Leon grabbed the boxes and slid his way out of the seat, "Can't wait to see my babies," he said peeping into one of the boxes.  
  
  
Claire rolled her eyes back and got out. Chris turned the ignition off and got out too. They walked out into the afternoon's glare towards the apartments.  
  
  
Leon placed the two boxes on the kitchen table and fished the items out. Two M79 G. Launchers complete with 40mm of flame, acid and the normal grenade rounds. A XM1014 shotgun with eight packs of 12 gauge shells. Double 38-caliber submachine guns Ingram with obscene amounts of DOT380 ammo. Chris got his Magnum and his 357 magnum rounds. Claire picked up the double wrist sheaths complete with fours knives. Leon picked up the Desert Eagle .50AE and clips filled with .50AE bullets. Apart from the C4, they got six H.E grenades; they resembled the size of a Coke tin. However these were a tad narrower and longer than the can. It's pin dangling at its side.   
  
  
One pull and bye bye Leon.   
  
  
They weren't sure if the amount of weaponry they had was enough or not enough. You never knew with Umbrella, one second you're doing fine and then the next you're confronted by zombies, Cerberus, Hunters, Bandersnatches and anything that isn't part of the nature. Leon shuddered, he hates zombies so much, but he was reassured by the amount of ammunition lying on the table.  
  
  
Claire sat on the edge of her bed; she laid the wrist sheaths on her bedside table. They were cute little things, undetectable under any long sleeved top. The black leather was eight centimetres long. It had two pouches for the knives, one at the back and front of the wristband. Velcro fastened the material together.   
  
  
One size does fit all.   
  
  
She pulled one apart and laid it flat on her mattress. The knives peered through the top of the leather; most people wouldn't notice that it was a sheath for a weapon, but a fashion accessory.   
  
  
It was the perfect article for covering up her light scars too.  
  
  
She pulled one of the four knives out and examined it; the reflection of the sun from her window bounced off the metal. Its metallic shimmer rested on her face. The knife was around seven centimetres, it looked more like a flattened out arrow than a miniature dagger. It was a great asset when confronted by a difficult situation. But it was also a disadvantage since to use the weapon affectively you would have to be close up to the enemy. With a zombie this was a huge no no, but she thought it would be like using the combat knife.   
  
  
She rested the sheaths on the table and rested her head; she curled her body in a small ball and closed her eyes.  
  
  
"You alright?"  
  
  
She opened her eyes slightly, "Yeah," she whispered.  
  
  
He sat down next to her and sighed, "Don't lie to me Claire I know you too well."  
  
  
She laughed quietly, "You only 'know' me too well because you're a figment of my twisted imagination."  
  
  
His hand lay gently on top of her head, he played with her brunette hair as if it was a normal thing to do, "I might not be real," he whispered, "but I'm very real in your mind."  
  
  
Claire opened her eyes fully; she only saw a leg, a leg that wore khaki trousers. She couldn't really visualise him in anything else other than the clothes he died in. And blue jeans for some reason.  
  
  
She could hear his faint breathing, it was real, and she knew it was. She peered up and caught the yellow of his shirt rising and falling. She moved her hand out, just a little, to touch him. The material of his trousers was rough, but warm. It was nice to have him close.   
  
  
"I haven't taken my medication today," she said, trying desperately to draw her longing away from him, "Maybe that's why I'm seeing you."   
  
  
She sat up quickly, he was upsetting her, and she almost hated him for doing that. His hand dropped to her side, she watched it unable to regain her control. She badly wanted to pick it up and kiss it. Her back was to him, which was a relief; if she were to look into his face she would have a break down. She wanted to but she restrained herself. He wasn't there!  
  
  
"Claire why don't you look at me?" he said.  
  
  
She shook her head not able to speak.  
  
  
"Why?" he simply asked.  
  
  
"Because you're dead!" she snapped, "You're not alive! You died in my arms damnit!" the tears were pulling from her eyes, she forbade them to run.  
  
  
Claire quickly grabbed the handle of the drawer and pulled with all her might, she needed the pills now! She gripped the small round bottle and pulled forcing the tape to break away. Her hands were trembling; her heart was about to explode if she didn't receive her medication at once.  
  
  
She twisted the cap unable to open it, she was frantic and out of control.   
  
  
His hand touched hers; she calmed down slightly gazing at the strange hand that laid lightly over hers. He took the bottle away and twisted the cap, "If you really want me to go then take one." He tipped the bottle until one white pill fell onto his palm, "Here."   
  
  
She stared at the pill and took it from him; she watched it in her palm figuring out what to do next, "It kills me Steve," she said softly, "When you're not here. I feel guilty that you died and I survived." She picked up the tablet and replaced it back into the bottle.  
  
  
She turned to him, "I don't want you to go."  
  
  
His blue-green gems sparkled, "You shouldn't feel guilty for living Claire." He took her into his arms and laid her head on his chest. She wrapped her arms around him; this was worth more than regaining her sanity back. Just for a moment of peace and happiness.  
  
  
"I know, but I can't help what I feel."  
  
  
"Sooner or later you have to let go."  
  
  
She didn't like that, she didn't want to let go not now and not ever, "Is this my subconscious telling me to forget about you?"  
  
  
He smiled and hugged her closer, "No, not to forget but to move on. You'll have the memory of me forever."  
  
  
The sound of his heart thudded against her ear, his heartbeat was strong. Was it Steve or herself telling her these things? She wasn't sure, but she was only a moment before.  
  
  
"Claire I'm a mixture of you and me. To deal with the pain you see me," he said answering her unspoken question.  
  
  
He picked up her hand, brushing his lips over the scar; his soft lips eased the ache under the flesh. He passed it close to his cheek and sighed. The faint flutter of his eyelashes tickled her skin, "I love you Claire."  
  
  
She sat up and glanced behind. She saw no Steve.   
  
  
It did hurt her.   
  
  
She stared at the bottle standing on the table. Picking it up she replaced it in her drawer.  
  
  
She wasn't going to take it today. 


	12. Never Knew Flunkies Had A Brain

12  
  
  
It was mid afternoon and the sun still had no mercy for anyone. Its strong gaze seemed to descend down into the street repelling anyone from escaping outside.  
  
  
A black car stood quietly down the street; it was the only car out in the sun. The street was quiet apart from a few sounds emitting from the apartments above. They weren't anything much, either the T.V or radio. The entire block appeared deserted.  
  
  
A man sat behind the wheel of the car in silence, the windows were down and the radio off. He wore a white shirt with no tie. His black hair stuck to his forehead and his face shone with sweat. He really didn't want to be there, it was too hot. But he had no other choice.  
  
  
He watched the apartments across from him carefully, he really hated this. He really hated stakeouts. He glared at his wristwatch. It was the fourth time in one minute. The sun was getting to him and his patience was wearing thin. What was bugging him the most was his throat, it was dry and he needed a drink fast. Truman was pissing him off already and that would normally take a few hours; it had been exactly fifteen minutes that he had last seen him. 'Oh I'm going to get us a drink,' he said, 'Be right back.' Yeah right!  
  
  
Lenny pushed back his wet hair; he gazed at the rear view mirror now and again hoping to see Truman with anything that was in liquid form. If he didn't then he would contemplate killing him.   
  
  
Simple as that.  
  
  
The passenger door opened, Lenny glanced at the man sliding in and narrowed his eyes, "What the hell took you so long?"  
  
  
Truman sat up straight and dumped his fries and drinks on the dashboard, "What do you think took me so long?!" he said, "Those fucking queues are long you know! It's not like I could pull out my gun and demand for service!"  
  
  
He gained a comfortable position. Truman wore a black shirt under a white tank top, the shirt was long and it covered the bulge, which was his gun, perfectly. His hair was brown and short; he looked no more than in his late twenties. He shoved Lenny's Coke across the dashboard, "Here," he grunted.  
  
  
Lenny took it and desperately suck it hard, the ice-cold liquid seeped down his throat and cooled him down, "Thanks," he said slurping up the last of his Coke. He sat back and tried to relax.  
  
  
Truman picked up his fries, "Want one?" Lenny glanced at the shrivelled up fried potato in disgust. They looked soggy and greasy. He couldn't believe Truman had an appetite in this heat.  
  
  
"I'll pass."  
  
  
Just behind the steering wheel was a black folder, Lenny picked it up and examined the contents. Truman sipped his drink and peered into the folder, "Whoa! What a beauty!"  
  
  
"You're telling me!" Lenny exclaimed. Within the folder was a file. It was a file of a young woman, her picture laid on the far left of the page. She had brown hair tied up into a ponytail; her eyes were blue, strange colour for a brunette. She wore a red top with three yellow wavy stripes on her left breast; she had a black short-sleeved top underneath. 'Claire Redfield' was stamped just under her picture in red letters. Nothing else was on the paper other than her name, address, age and names of relations and friends.   
  
  
"Now why would Umbrella be after this pretty thing? She doesn't seem dangerous," commented Truman.  
  
  
Lenny coughed nervously, "It's doesn't matter what Umbrella wants her for. That's none of our business, and I think you should watch what you say."  
  
  
"'Watch what I say'?! Umbrella won't kill me for that!"  
  
  
Lenny laughed, "They kill for lesser things, now why wouldn't they kill an expendable person like you?"  
  
  
He opened his mouth ready to object, but he closed it. It was true, Umbrella were a vicious lot. The rumours that went around left anyone, and mostly everyone, shitting in their pants. People tried to deny them, but anyone with enough sanity and sense left knew exactly that the rumours were all accurate. Although it wasn't said, not if your life was depending on your ignorance.   
  
  
Truman grabbed the folder and snatched it up; his greasy figures smudged the paper. Lenny rolled his eyes to the heavens.  
  
  
"Hey would you look at this," he gasped, "They've put her under 'extremely dangerous'! Can you believe that?! I mean look at her! She's only nineteen!"   
  
  
"Would you stop it already!" Lenny said pulling the folder out of Truman's hands, "Haven't you heard the phrase 'looks can be deceiving'?"  
  
  
"Fine, I'll stop talking about her," he swiped his oily hands across his thighs. He sat still for exactly one minute, but the urge was too great to stay quiet. He was a toddler trapped in a man's body, "Have you ever wondered why Umbrella is called Umbrella? A strange name for a corporation. Why not Parasol? It's exactly like an umbrella just bigger."  
  
  
Lenny threw the file back onto the dashboard in a fit of rage; an ache was creeping into his head. There weren't any aspirins and he would have to deal with Truman until the girl came out. But that could be for hours. The thought of blowing Truman's head off was looking rather interesting. Umbrella wouldn't punish him for that. They would congratulate him instead. But they would kill Lenny and Truman if the task weren't done. He turned and glared, "Please just shut up! We've got work to do!"   
  
  
A young woman came out of the building across the road, "Oh look here she is, and doesn't she look better in reality?"  
  
  
Lenny ignored his last remark; he had to be stuck with the stupid ones. He watched the girl closely; she turned the corner heading towards the underground parking lot. He pulled his gun out of the glove compartment and smiled, "She'll be out soon and then we'll nab her." 


	13. Road Rage

13  
  
  
Claire couldn't stay in the apartment any longer; she needed to be alone to think. The apartment was practically an oven, the heat was too extreme. However when she entered the street it too wasn't all that great.  
  
  
She left her coat, along with her gun back in her room, it wasn't the right weather for it and her gun liked to dig into her hip. Instead she opted for the wrist sheaths. The sleeves of her white top covered it well. She walked towards the underground parking lot where her beloved bike was.  
  
  
She put on her helmet and climbed onto the bike. It had been too long since she last rode it. The last time was when she entered Raccoon City, Claire shuddered. Now that was a bad night.   
  
  
She turned the ignition on and began to drive to the exit. She stopped looking from her left to her right; she noticed opposite her a black car. Two men were sat inside; they looked like they were arguing about something. They were the only ones out on the street, well apart from her. She panicked thinking suspicious thoughts about them, however she quickly pushed that thought out of her mind and reminded herself; for the umpteenth time that not everyone worked for Umbrella. She sighed heavily; she was getting sick and tired of her paranoia. She turned right and headed down the street to the main road.  
  
  
The black car behind her waited until she reached the traffic lights, they were red at the moment. The car hummed in its spot as the young woman drove to the stop sign. She didn't notice anything out of the ordinary; to her it was just another day.  
  
  
Lenny gripped the steering wheel hard; his hands grew white as he concentrated on his 'mission'. He clenched his teeth, he warned Truman to be quiet or he would end up with a bullet in between his eyes. Truman took his word and stayed silent, he almost seemed invisible. It wasn't just because of Lenny's threat he knew not to interrupt him.   
  
  
Must have been from experience.   
  
  
The girl adjusted her top and glanced in her mirror. Truman held his breath scared that she saw them. She didn't do anything apart from gaze back at the lights and waited ever so patiently for the colour to change green, or at least amber.   
  
  
Lenny was about to explode if the damned traffic lights didn't change. He glanced from Claire to the lights, from the lights and then back to Claire. He was shitting himself, he didn't want to lose her; Umbrella was very unwelcoming to failures.  
  
  
The light changed amber and the bike sped out and turned left. The car jerked forward, he gained control back and quickly sped down the street and out behind Claire. She didn't notice the ominous car behind her. It lurked behind two cars. Lenny stared silently at her, never wanting to miss a fraction of a second.  
  
  
She rode on until she met another set of traffic lights, the red glow burned through the glass. She slowed down and came to a halt. Lenny moved from her rear to her side and slowed down. She glanced at the man behind the wheel.   
  
  
He smiled.   
  
  
She smiled back a little wary of him.   
  
  
The guy next to him smiled too. This time she didn't, she turned back to the lights and prayed for it to change. She could feel that something wasn't right. She recognised the car. Claire took another quick look at them.   
  
  
Her heart panicked.   
  
  
Something caught her eye.   
  
  
The far man held in his hands a black folder; it looked like any black folder that could be bought anywhere. But it was a small red and white symbol on the cover that frightened her.  
  
  
Umbrella's mark!  
  
  
The small red and white symbol did enough to make her body shake.  
  
  
Lenny turned to her; his gaze burned deeply into her head. He knew something wasn't right. Her face was tense; her eyes were big wide black pits. Her body was stiff; her clutch over the bike handles resembled rigor mortis, a hold so strong and hard that she knew something was wrong. She was scared, but by what?  
  
  
He glanced at Truman and saw the folder, until he met the Umbrella emblem he didn't realise her apparent change. Truman met his face and knew too that the time had come. Lenny grabbed his handgun from the floor, Claire wasted no time to see what would happen if she'd stayed. The light was still red, but by now she didn't give a shit. Her life was in danger. She sped passed the light before Lenny had the chance to aim.  
  
  
"Fuck!" he screeched dropping the gun to the floor. He quickly grasped a hold of the steering wheel and stamped his foot down on the gas, pursuing the brunette.   
  
  
Claire didn't know what to do other than keep way ahead of them. What she needed was protection, people; she needed a very busy place. But the streets were deserted, not one person was out in the afternoon. It was too hot.   
  
  
Home!  
  
  
At least there she could have Chris and Leon to help her with this unsightly problem.  
  
  
"Slow down!" called Truman, "We don't want her dead, if you go any faster you'll knock her off the road!"  
  
  
"Shut up!" snapped Lenny, "I know what I'm doing! Anyway she wouldn't die from a few bruises."  
  
  
He leant into the wheel, pushing as much as he could on the gas pedal. He needed to get to her before she gets to anyone else. And the only way to do that was to run her off the road.  
  
  
Claire glanced in her side mirror; the car was practically a few inches away from her. If he pressed any harder he would be on top of her. Suddenly she turned left driving straight into a street full of houses. The car swerved round the corner and keep on moving towards her with no affect of losing control.   
  
  
He bumped her slightly just to scare her. She glanced back frowning. Truman popped his head out, "If you pull over now you wouldn't get hurt."  
  
  
"Fuck you!" she cried sticking her middle finger up at him. Bullshit, he was lying. Everyone gets hurt or even die when they say that. Gives a false sense of security. She wasn't about to give herself up to Umbrella.   
  
  
What did they think she was? Stupid?!   
  
  
He sat back, "Well that didn't work," he sighed, "You might as well knock her off the road then, but please don't kill her!"  
  
  
Lenny frowned, "Thanks for your blessing."  
  
  
He sped up hitting Claire's rear; she jerked forward almost losing control. He knocked her again, the bike jolted, twisted and dropped hard to the floor. Claire spun; she didn't know what was going on. She screamed as the bike came crashing down to the tarmac. Her body shook violently. She didn't want to die tangled up with metal. Her leg scraped the floor as the bike slid to a halt. Her jeans were torn and her leg was grazed badly. So was her right arm. The white of her top turned a deep red from her shoulder down to her elbow. She pulled off the helmet and tried to crawl away from the wreckage.  
  
  
The black car stopped, Lenny and Truman got out fast. They headed for Claire quickly. She tugged at her leg desperately to get out. Lenny reached down to her; she panicked and pulled out a knife.  
  
  
"Stay the fuck back!" she cried, he didn't listen. Claire lashed out at him, but he was too quick or she was too slow, he grabbed her arm and twisted it back until the blade fell out.  
  
  
"Behave," he said through his teeth.  
  
  
She laughed, "Fuck you!"   
  
  
He slapped her hard. She gasped, her face felt as if a lorry smashed into her. She shook her head almost regaining her vision. He grabbed her arms and yanked her out of the metal wreckage. Truman came running; in his hands he gently carried a small item. Claire couldn't see what it was until he was too close.   
  
  
It was small syringe!  
  
  
"Hold her still," he said.  
  
  
Claire struggled against Lenny, "Hey," she panicked, "Stop that!"  
  
  
Truman grabbed her left arm and stretched it out. Claire struggled at his grip, but her body ached badly. There were going to be some serious bruising. His hold tightened, her skin turned white with the pressure of his grip. He pulled back her sleeve and roughly inserted the needle into her vein. The contents flowed through the syringe and into her bloodstream. She jerked away pulling at Lenny's grasp. He wouldn't let up, so she elbowed him in his stomach. His hold loosened and she just ran.   
  
  
The needle stuck out from her arm, she pulled at it and threw it to the floor. Beads of blood ran down her skin, she quickly held her hand to the wound trying to prevent any more blood from escaping.   
  
  
She kept on running down the street screaming for anyone to help her.   
  
  
No one came out to rescue her.   
  
  
Her body was weakening, her movements where sluggish, she felt as if everything around her moved in slow motion. She couldn't see her surroundings anymore. And the sounds of the street seemed to fade away. The cars just beyond her where so far into the distance, their noises sounded so far away that it was hopeless to call out to them.   
  
  
"What the fuck did you do to me?!" she screamed to everyone and no one.  
  
  
She stopped and stood still. Whatever they gave her worked well, she didn't know what was going on or what had just happened. She didn't know why her body was aching and why she was bleeding.  
  
  
The two men stood a few metres from her; they stared as she tried to regain her last few seconds. Lenny crouched on the floor in pain; he held his belly carefully and took deep breaths. Truman just waited until she was completely incapacitated.  
  
  
Claire felt very tired; she sat down on the floor huddled against her knees. It was getting harder every second to keep her eyes open. Her instincts were telling her to keep them open, to get away from wherever she was.   
  
  
But why? She didn't know if there was a danger. Who was the danger?  
  
  
She fell back hitting the ground hard; the sky above her was dark. The sun had gone and left her all alone. She began laughing in failing hopes of understand her situation. The laugher swiftly turned into sobs as the dawning realisation of her status came to her. Wherever she was, she had a sinking feel that it was really bad. A tall person wearing a black shirt and white tank top stood above her. He knelt down; the air blew his shirt away from his side showing his holstered gun.  
  
  
He picked her up and took her towards a black car.  
  
  
Was he part of the danger? 


	14. Alexia And Steve

14  
  
  
Steve sat huddled in the darken corner, his head ached and his body was bruised. Everything was going great, he and Claire were out and escaping when all of a suddenly they were attacked by…by what?   
  
  
Something that wasn't natural. That's for sure.  
  
  
He opened his eyes to the darkness only to see his prison; he shifted from the metal gate and gazed at it. It seemed too strong to open and on top of that there was a card reader on the other side. Maybe to active the gate.  
  
  
Then is dawned on him. Claire! She wasn't with him! He panicked desperately hoping that she was alive and well. She was the type of girl to fight and survive mostly anything. But everyone has his or her limits. Hopefully not Claire, she was strong and very tough. And strangely enough used to all this.  
  
  
He stood up aching and paining all over. He grabbed a hold of the metal bars and yanked it hard. They didn't indicate anything to him, he was stuck.  
  
  
Steve stood back and stared at the impenetrable metal gate for a moment. Wherever possible, there had to be an escape route! He turned round; there wasn't much only a long path with stone statues and a chair right at the back. He walked towards it and stopped suddenly. It was a strange metallic chair, if it could be called that.  
  
  
There was a red button just above it; it had to control the release mechanism for the metal restraints that were attached to the side of the chair. He looked around it for anything that could help him to open the metal bars, there was nothing.  
  
  
He sat on the cold floor. It was completely hopeless. A faint light shone down from above, he glared up only to meet another gate.   
  
  
There was a room above. His heart quickened with excitement and hope.  
  
  
He stood up and climbed the chair. He reached up to tug at the small metal squares, but they didn't move. He only thought of one other option, so he grabbed the gate with his hands and pulled up until his face was almost touching the metal.  
  
  
"Claire!" he screamed, "Claire help! I'm down here!" he paused wishing to hear her call back, she didn't. There was nothing other than the faint echoes of his voice.   
  
  
He reached up again, pressing his entire face to the cool network of squares, "Claire!" he called again, "It's me Steve!" he listened. Nothing.   
  
  
"HELP ME!" he cried for the last time.  
  
  
Steve let go and dropped to the floor. It was finally official, he was trapped. Maybe forever.  
  
  
"Shit!" he muttered with rage. He didn't want to be stuck in a place full of killer creatures. And Claire, he was afraid for her. He didn't want to lose her, not here of all places.   
  
  
He didn't want to lose her.  
  
  
He backed up staring at the light. His promise to her failed. He badly wanted to protect her and he never succeeded. It was her who protected and saved him several times. He felt weak, pathetic and a total loser. It would be up to her, again, to help him out…  
  
  
Unless she was…  
  
  
He stopped himself, she wasn't. She couldn't! Not Claire! She was too brave and too strong for death.   
  
  
"What do we have here?"  
  
  
Steve spun round.  
  
  
"Yet another rodent to deal with."  
  
  
"Alexia?!" gasped Steve.  
  
  
Her golden hair lay around her shoulders like silk. Her cobalt eyes sparkled unnaturally; there was a deep sense of wickedness originating from them. She wore a purple gown, which fitted her body perfectly. She wore white gloves that ended at her elbows and a small pendent around her neck.   
  
  
She smiled, "In the flesh."  
  
  
Within her hands she held a huge axe. For anyone else it would have been too heavy to lift let alone carry. But to her it was nothing, as if it was a thin piece of paper. She stood behind the metal bars staring at him. Her eyes glowed and the gate rose up. She walked pass them and then headed to Steve. The gate re-closed again, forbidding any chance of escaping.  
  
  
"Would you like to be my next guinea pig?" she said.  
  
  
Steve backed up, she was dangerous, it was so apparent, "I'll think I'll pass," he said nervously.  
  
  
She laughed, a high pitch sound, Steve covered his ears. She was something but human, "I don't think you have a choice."  
  
  
Her speed increased, and as if in a blink of an eye she was by his side smiling.  
  
  
Steve was stunned; he didn't know what was happening. Alexia dropped the axe to the floor; it fell making the loudest bang. It seemed to echo forever. She grabbed onto his shirt snapping him out of his trance and lifted him up, "You'll be the prefect specimen to destroy that nuisance," she smirked revealing a small vial. "You see this Steve?"  
  
  
She held it up to his face, "This is the last batch of the T-Veronica virus."  
  
  
Steve eyes widen, he knew exactly what she was going to do with him. He struggled at her grip; Alexia frowned annoyed by his actions. She pulled him near and threw him to the floor as if he was nothing but a rag.  
  
  
He flew through the air and landed on the chair, his head hit the edge of the chair dazing him.   
  
  
She skipped to him, like a child playing with her toys, and wrapped the metal restraints around his arms and chest. She then moved round and grabbed his jaw roughly, "You'll be the perfect drone."  
  
  
She opened the vial and stared at the contents, it was clear and looked very harmless, "Lets just hope you don't end up like my useless father."  
  
  
Steve gasped struggling against the metal, "Please," he begged, "Don't do this!"  
  
  
Alexia stared at him as if for the first time. She threw back her head and laughed viciously. She yanked his head back and poured the liquid down his throat. He began choking trying to stop the liquid from entering his body. She shook his head hard.   
  
  
Hot tears ran down his cheeks as the deadly virus seeped though him.   
  
  
She let go and backed away until she met the axe, picking it up she walked to Steve forcing it across the wall, blocking him, "Just a little present for when you see Claire," she sniggered backing away from him heading to the gate.  
  
  
Her dress swept the floor as she passed back under the gate and away.  
  
  
Steve stared on unable to free himself from the restraints. It wouldn't matter anymore. He bent his head ashamed that he couldn't do anything to help himself. Ashamed that he didn't held up a struggle against Alexia. But he was mostly ashamed that he couldn't help or keep his promise to Claire.  
  
  
No it didn't matter anymore.  
  
  
He was dead anyway…   
  
  
It was only a matter of time before death came for him…  
  
  
…And Claire. 


	15. Insane And Down Right Crazy

15  
  
  
She knew she was still asleep, well half. She knew that she had to wake up before seeing his death all over again. It was hard enough seeing him lose all faith in his self and fall into despair. It was hard enough seeing Alexia force Steve in becoming the beast.  
  
  
No, she didn't want to see Steve suffer the way he did, as she stood hopeless to help him. She didn't want to see him cry out to her for help when she couldn't give it to him as she did before. She didn't want to see him scream as the pain of his transformation cut him through and through like he was butter.  
  
  
Something was preventing her to wake; something manmade was forbidding her to escape from the torment.   
  
  
She had to open her eyes now!   
  
  
A bright white light shone down on her, she frowned and re-closed her eyes averting from the light. Someone was with her, his or her faint voice sounded from below her. She couldn't put her finger as to what gender was the voice. Then she realised that she wasn't standing, but lying down.  
  
  
Claire took a deep breath and opened her eyes again, slightly. She peered through her eyelashes at the strange voice.  
  
  
"Where was she picked up?"  
  
  
"Lowland Street," the person sighed, "She was in an accident and she has grazes on her right arm and leg. And a nasty bruise on her face. The police found a motorbike two streets away. They think it's hers."  
  
  
"And they think she walked away from the wreckage?"  
  
  
"Yeah, but that doesn't explain her outburst."  
  
  
"Outburst?"  
  
  
"Didn't the attending paramedics tell you? Anyway, witnesses saw her screaming about how a 'tyrant' was coming to get her. She then pulled out a knife. She had four of these and she was about to strike. Luckily a member of the public took her down."  
  
  
The other person flipped through something, it sounded like paper, "She has a history of psychiatric problems as early as a child. We best keep an eye on her she's suicidal."  
  
  
"Would you be prescribing anything?"  
  
  
"For the time being we'll keep her sedated, we need to contact any relatives."  
  
  
"The only relative she has is a brother. He has already-"  
  
  
"Where I'm I?" Claire said. She opened her eyes fully; two people were with her, a man and a woman. They were both dressed in white, the room was white. She tried to sit up, but something kept her down.   
  
  
"Hey what's going on?" she panicked.  
  
  
The woman walked up to her, "its ok Claire you're safe, the 'tyrant' isn't going to get you."  
  
  
"What? What tyrant? What's going on?" her heart quickened she didn't like this. This wasn't right. The events the night before were still obscure.   
  
  
Then it clicked to her. Umbrella, they had to be behind this.  
  
  
She tugged at the restraints; she didn't notice them before until now.   
  
  
She jerked desperately to get out of them, "Help," she yelled.  
  
  
The woman glanced at the man; he moved to the door and vanished, "Claire its ok, there's nothing to be afraid of."  
  
  
Claire narrowed her eyes, "Fuck you! I know how Umbrella works!"  
  
  
She yanked at the Velcro restraints. It was working! The material was separating. The woman ran to Claire's nearly freed arm. Claire grabbed the woman hard and pulled forcing her entire wrist out of the strap.   
  
  
The woman glared in fright, "Security!" she screamed.  
  
  
She tried straining at Claire's grip, but Claire wasn't about to let go. She finally did let go pulling the Velcro strap from her other arm and legs. She got up, only to have the woman block her path to freedom, "Get out of my way," Claire demanded.  
  
  
The woman wasn't listening or she didn't care. Claire had enough; she didn't know where she was or what happened to her. All she wanted was to go home. She only wanted to see Chris and Leon, but the woman wasn't having that.   
  
  
She grabbed her arm; Claire struggled and pushed her back. The woman fell to the floor hitting her head on the wall. Claire knelt down and checked her vitals; there was a strong pulse within her neck. She would be fine, just a little pissed.  
  
  
Claire stood up fast and moved to the door swiftly, she glanced through the window if anyone was outside.   
  
  
No one.  
  
  
She opened up the door and stepped through; the hall was long and seemed to go on forever. Her feet were bare and the floor was too cold for her liking. If she walked to her left, which only led to a window, she would be trapped. And she didn't think she was on the ground floor so she opted for the right. She moved on and walked silently to the end of the hall towards a stairway.  
  
  
"There she goes!" called a voice behind her; she glanced back only to be confronted by three huge men in white. They began running towards her. Claire headed down the stairs, her only thought was to get away from them first and then find a way out.  
  
  
But that was beginning to look impossible, voices; several voices weren't only coming from behind her but from below her. They were getting louder and louder as they climbed the stairs.  
  
  
"Fuck!" she muttered. She hated this, now where could she go?   
  
  
Over the banister?   
  
  
No, she couldn't, the drop was too faraway. She would surly die! But what else could she do? Go back to Umbrella peacefully and let them perform perverted and very excruciating experiments on her?   
  
  
No! Of course not!  
  
  
She stepped towards the edge of the banister and grabbed the wooden frame. Her white gown fluttered, the air rising up from the bottom of the stairway was cold. She shivered, not only from the cool air, but because she was scared. Cold sweat trailed down her face, she wiped her forehead.   
  
  
She wasn't sure if she could do this.   
  
  
"Claire," called a voice, "Get away from the railing."  
  
  
She glanced from her left to her right. There were at least five people on either side of her, "No," she whispered, "I'm not dying like that."  
  
  
One person moved nearer, Claire shifted closer to the railing and leant forward, "Don't think about it!" she gasped, "I know what you're doing!"  
  
  
The man knelt down, "Claire do you want to do this?"  
  
  
She turned to him; tears ran down her cheeks, "Steve?" she sniffed, "Is that you?"  
  
  
He smiled his beautiful smile. It only broke her heart more, "Yes my angel it is."  
  
  
Claire burst into tears, "I dreamt about you," she breathed, "You were lonely and sad. I hate seeing you like that."  
  
  
His red hair fell gently across his forehead, the red of his hair shimmered slightly against the light. It looked like metallic blood. His eyes mirrored the deep oceans of Earth.   
  
  
Deep blue-green seas.  
  
  
"Claire," the way he utter her name was like poetry to her ears, he only had to say her name and she would melt there and then, "That's in the past, I'm here now with you."  
  
  
She laughed bitterly. She hated herself. But more to the point of disgust. Especially for making herself go through this unnecessary pain and anguish.  
  
  
"It's never in the 'past' Steve!" she sobbed, "You're dead damnit. I can't accept that! I'll never get over you. The only way would be to die," she laughed slightly staring down the stairway, "I'll never have peace without you. Because I love you so much that it kills me!"  
  
  
He moved up to her trying to get as close as possible, "Claire please!" he begged, "Don't do anything stupid, please."  
  
  
She turned to him and reached out her hand. He took it and caressed it. His hand was silky soft and warm. She smiled, "I never do."  
  
  
Something sharp pierced her, a needle of some sort. She looked up at Steve with worried eyes. Her body felt light and she didn't know if she was standing or lying. His arms encased her fragile body protecting her from the harsh world. He smiled down; pushing strands of her brown hair away from her face. He cradled her close, rocking her body gently. She kept staring into those green-blue eyes of his. He leant down and kissed her forehead delicately. Claire closed her eyes, huddling into his everlasting warmth. She was falling asleep in his arms.   
  
  
But it was as if she was dying in them as he did in hers. 


	16. Tyrant Alive!

Kitana- This is just to clear some things that have confused you.  
  
  
Right.   
  
  
1). Steve is a figment of Claire's imagination, she sees him because she misses him. He is still dead though.  
2). She also has dreams about things, e.g. Chapter14- Alexia and Steve. This dream tells us how Alexia changed Steve in Code Veronica.  
3). Just so you don't get more confused, chapter 16 explains what happens to Claire before she was taken to the mental institute.  
4). Lenny and Truman are for real. They were sent by Umbrella to get Claire.  
  
  
I hope that explains some things…if not just send me an e-mail…  
  
  
Oh! Before I go I would just like to thank all of you who have read and reviewed. And thank you Claire Burnside 267 for reading and reviewing from the beginning and to all you has too. Thank you. ; )   
  
  
16  
  
  
Truman picked Claire up and shoved her in the backseat of the car. He glanced back at Lenny, "You alright?" he called.  
  
  
Lenny glared at him and hurried along, he opened the passenger door and hopped in, "You drive!"  
  
  
Truman shrugged and got in; he turned the keys and backed up turning sharply round and then down the street toward the main road.  
  
  
Lenny leant back still holding his belly gently, "Shit that girl has one vicious punch!"  
  
  
Truman smirked, "I never knew that a nineteen year old would be your match. Anyways you slapped her hard, she's gonna bruise badly."  
  
  
"Shut up and drive, it's not like we're finished," he gasped, "Sometimes I hate this job."  
  
  
"Really? You? Never thought that about you."  
  
  
"I'm not an ogre twenty four seven you know," Lenny sighed, "Look lets just do this and be done with it!"  
  
  
Truman shrugged again, "Fine, I'm getting hungry anyway," he said, "So where you want me to stop?"  
  
  
Lenny glanced out of his window, he yawned, "The next street. Go into an alleyway. Any alleyway."  
  
  
Truman kept his eyes on the road; his gun was digging into his hip. There was nothing he could do about it other than to deal with it.  
  
  
People were emerging from the buildings, they scattered everywhere. Hopefully they could find an alleyway away from the public streets and their prying eyes.  
  
  
He slowed down turning into a small back street; he drove in deeply so that no one off the streets could see what they were doing. He stopped the car, but left it on. The engine hummed in its spot.  
  
  
"Well here we are."  
  
  
"Yeah," muttered Lenny. He got out and opened the back door, "You coming? Or do I have to do this by myself?"  
  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm coming," Truman got out and stood by Lenny.  
  
  
"Well?"  
  
  
He grabbed Claire's feet and dragged her out. He swung her over his shoulder and walked further up the alleyway, "Here?"  
  
  
Lenny nodded, "It doesn't matter."  
  
  
Truman laid Claire gently down on the floor and waited for Lenny. He came running with another syringe in his hand, "You do it," he demanded.  
  
  
Truman frowned, "You do it! I did it last time!"  
  
  
"Fine," he huffed. Lenny bent down and took a hold of Claire's left arm and inserted the needle. The contents within the syringe decreased to nothing. He pulled the needle out and stood up, "Well that's it. Our work there is done. Let's get something to eat."  
  
  
Truman agreed and they went back to the car, he sat behind the steering wheel, "You think that all the drugs we've given her is gonna mess her up?"  
  
  
"Look Truman to be frank I don't really give a shit what happens to her. All I want to do is go and get something to eat. Now move it!"  
  
  
"As you wish your highness," Truman backed up and drove out into the main road again…   
  
  
…Leaving Claire discarded and drugged.  
  
  
The street filled and Claire lay soundlessly on the damp floor. She stirred and opened her eyes. She sat up feeling a little dizzy. Her body was numb but she could stand. She leant on the wall for support and stared at her surroundings.  
  
  
Where the hell was she?  
  
  
She didn't know, she didn't know how she got there let alone why. Everything was a huge blur. She dragged her body across the alleyway out into the busy street in front of her. One thing she knew that was essential was to be around as many people as possible.   
  
  
Safety in numbers.  
  
  
The artificial light glared at her in spite. She covered her eyes and turned to the dark alleyway. She sighed heavily and glanced into the darkness. Someone was there, deep down in the dark. It moved so slowly as if it had all the time in the world to get to its destination.  
  
  
Something strange and yet very familiar about the stranger caught her attention. He, well she assumed it was a he, was tall. Too tall, more like massive. His entire face was cloaked by the pitch-blackness and yet she could just about see his eyes. Deep dark pits, no life seemed to ooze from them, only destruction and utter evil.   
  
  
His stare was so robotic, bent on his victim and nothing else.   
  
  
It felt all too familiar to her; he stalked closer into the neon lights. Claire gasped already knowing what he was. She backed away scared as hell to move. His pale white skin was dull and very unhealthy; he wore nothing apart from his skin.  
  
  
It was the Tyrant!  
  
  
Claire screamed running into the road behind her. Cars skidded along the road trying to avoid the hysterical woman running across from them. She switched from each car, their lights shone in her eyes.   
  
  
Claire fell to the floor startled and frightened.  
  
  
The Tyrant didn't stop; he kept on moving to her.  
  
  
"Run!" she screamed to the strange people looking at her, "The Tyrant is coming! He'll kill you all! Run!"  
  
  
They didn't move one bit she got frustrated with them. She couldn't understand why they weren't running from the huge monster.  
  
  
She grasped her wrist sheath and pulled out a knife, "I KILLED YOU! I KILLED YOU!" she screamed.  
  
  
The people around stared on at her; they dared not approach her for she was armed and very dangerous.  
  
  
"Call the police," called one person from the crowd.  
  
  
Claire laughed crazily, "The police can't do shit against this!"  
  
  
She flung her knife out backing away at the same time. Sirens, loud and intrusive sirens rang around the silent street. The Tyrant stopped and stared down at her. He lowered his self waiting for something to happen.   
  
  
Suddenly he stretched out releasing two deadly spikes from either side of his arm, Claire screamed again.  
  
  
Something grabbed her from behind and shoved her to the floor; another person came closer and kicked the knife away.  
  
  
"You don't know what you're doing! It'll kill us all!"  
  
  
The person pinned her down as he waited for the police. They came with a white van; two men came rushing out with a trolley. They grabbed Claire and dragged her up shoving her onto the trolley.  
  
  
"You don't know what you're doing!" she struggled from their hold, "The Tyrant is going to kill us!"  
  
  
She pulled out another knife lunging forward, the two men held her down. A policeman ran to their aid knocking the knife from her hand.  
  
  
"Quickly", said one of them, "Restraint her!"  
  
  
They pulled her down and strapped her hands and legs down, "You don't know what you're doing!"   
  
  
She struggled at the restraints, trying desperately to free herself. One of the men took out a sedative from the van.  
  
  
"No!" she shrieked, "Don't do that!"   
  
  
But it was too late, he jabbed it into her arm, "No," she whimpered half drifting away. She stopped struggling; her body was slowing down, "Please don't do that."  
  
  
The men sighed pushing the trolley back into the van. They closed the doors behind them and the van drove down the street followed by a police car.   
  
  
The Tyrant vanished, no one saw him. They only saw the woman who was screaming crazily at them with a knife in her hand.   
  
  
And she was being driven away to the psyche ward. 


	17. The Truth Spares No One

17  
  
  
Chris collected his weapons and headed to his room. The room was dark; his curtains were wide open peering outside to the vast world. He sat down laying his weapons onto his desk. He felt a little happier, everything was going to plan, and it was only a matter of time, with some preparation, before returning to Raccoon City.  
  
  
He shuddered, but he was saddened thinking back to the city. Now destroyed with God knows how many dead. The street he lived in, the precinct and most of all his friends.   
  
  
He laid back into his bed and sighed, there was a lot of things that had happened to him, too many things. He had no job, nowhere to live; cash was fading quickly and what? Nothing to live for other than to stop Umbrella.   
  
  
But what will become of him after? That's if he, Claire and Leon succeeds. What would be out there for him? Jill? But she vanished and maybe even dead.  
  
  
No, not her, never her. She was too strong, just like Claire. She could withstand anything that he could.  
  
  
Other than Jill who else and what else was here for him? Claire! His baby sister, he had to be there for her. She needed him more than anything.  
  
  
He gazed up at the ceiling, the shadows of the moonlight bounced off the white ceiling. The patterns danced above him as if they were alive and full of life.   
  
  
Chris smiled, he was needed.  
  
  
He relaxed and closed his eyes. Claire was out and Leon was still dribbling over his weaponry. That guy had problems or he was genuinely in love with anything that can kill.  
  
  
That explains his interest with Claire.   
  
  
The window in front of him was open. The cool evening breeze flowed through, it caressed him lovingly. He turned to his side gaining a much comfortable position.  
  
  
He seemed to drift away when a loud but muffled sound alerted him. It was the phone; it's annoying loud ringing infuriated him. He wasn't going to get up; he was too comfortable and half asleep. Leon could get it.  
  
  
The ringing stopped abruptly, Chris listened. It was silent, either Leon didn't get or he did.  
  
  
He returned to his relaxation and closed his eyes.  
  
  
"Err Chris? You awake?"  
  
  
"Go away. I'm busy!"  
  
  
"Chris the phone's for you," he paused, "A Doctor Watson is calling about Claire. She won't say anything to me. I'm not a relative."  
  
  
He didn't need much to be up and out of bed, he ran to the door flinging it open. He passed Leon as if he didn't exist.  
  
  
"Hello?" he gasped.  
  
  
"Mr Christopher Redfield?" questioned the woman.  
  
  
"Yeah that's me. What's this about Claire?" he was so anxious to know what was going on. The woman was pissing him off, she was slow and it seemed forever for her to get to the point.  
  
  
"There's nothing to worry about, other than some grazes and bruises Miss Redfield is perfectly fine."  
  
  
Chris released a long breath, happy that Claire was fine. He sat down. "Where is she?"  
  
  
"County Memorial Mental Institute-"  
  
  
"What? What the hell is she doing in a mental institute?!"  
  
  
"Well that's the problem, when the police picked her up she was having…an 'episode'-"  
  
  
Chris couldn't help himself; she was talking about his little sister, "'Episode'? I don't understand."  
  
  
"Mr Redfield if you could just let me finish then I can explain," he bit his lip, he was about to tell her every swear word he knew. Her rudeness and cold-heartiness was wearing on his patience.  
  
  
There was a long pause, then there was a rustling sound of paper, "When the police picked her up," she repeated, "she was screaming and nearly attacking the crowd with a knife. The police phoned in for us and a van came onto the scene."  
  
  
"What was she screaming about?"  
  
  
"What we've gathered is something about a 'tyrant'. She was really upset and delusional. There was nothing to indicate an attacker was within the vicinity. However we did find two needle marks on her arm, are you aware if she has taken any drugs?"  
  
  
Chris's mouth dropped open. Claire taking drugs? That was preposterous!  
  
  
"No, never!" he was almost offended by her question.  
  
  
"Are you sure, in most people when taking drugs their personality changes. Has Miss Redfield been acting strange lately?   
  
  
These questions were getting very intrusive, "Well, err," she had been acting very weird, but that was because of Steve. He knew there was no point in lying, they were there to help her, "Yes," he admitted, "But she has been going through a lot of stress. Someone close to her died not long ago."  
  
  
"Mr Redfield are you aware that your sister has had a history of mental problems?"  
  
  
"She had problems when she was young. It was pretty hard on her when our parents died."  
  
  
"Yes, but just recently she almost committed suicide."  
  
  
"What?!" he choked, "When?!"  
  
  
"About four months ago. She's been coming to the Institute every week for the last four months for therapy. Umm I think we should continue this at the Institute. We need to ask some more questions…"  
  
  
Chris let the phone dropped; he just couldn't believe Claire was going through so much pain. And he didn't even notice it. He assumed that she was dealing with Steve's death very well.  
  
  
"Mr Redfield?!"  
  
  
He picked up the phone, "Yeah, I'll be right there," and he hanged up.  
  
  
"Chris?" called Leon; he stood by the kitchen door a little wary of getting close to him. He seemed both upset and uncontrollable. His head was bent and covered within his palms.  
  
  
"She's in a mental institute Leon," he looked up, "She's in a fucking mental institute!"  
  
  
He stood up not knowing what to do, "You know what they told me?!" he paced within his area like a dangerous animal, "They told me that she nearly committed suicide four fucking months ago!"   
  
  
He hit the wall with pure rage, "My baby sister tried to kill herself! And I wasn't here to stop her! I wasn't here to support her through her pain! No I was fucking out there," he pointed out the window, "trying to bring Umbrella down! I cared more about those fuckers than my little sister!"  
  
  
"Chris! You didn't know. We didn't know! She seemed ok. You can't blame yourself," it was a pathetic attempt to calm and comfort him.  
  
  
"Bullshit!" he yelled, "I wasn't there for her! No wonder she's been acting strange! Fuck!"  
  
  
He picked up his car keys and ran to the door, "Let's go! At least I can be with her now!"  
  
  
Leon followed behind, he knew she was taking medication and he didn't do anything. He left her alone when she told him to. But deep down he should have helped anyway possible, even if it was just a chat!   
  
  
He knew he should have done something! 


	18. Whose To Blame?

18  
  
  
"Mr Redfield, I'm so glad you came," a tall woman dressed in a long white lab coat walked up to him. She wore thin, small glasses; her brown-blonde hair was tied up in a tight bun. She smiled reaching out her hand to his, "I'm Doctor Watson."  
  
  
Chris stood up swiftly taking hold of her hand and shook, "Can I see Claire?"  
  
  
"Well firstly I need to ask a few questions about her," she directed him towards the chair, "Please sit."  
  
  
He did and waited patiently for her 'interview' to be over with, "What kind of questions?" he asked.  
  
  
Watson smiled again but it looked too fake and unenthusiastic, "I am aware that you didn't know about Claire's…'incident' and I'm so sorry that I told you over the phone."  
  
  
'Incident'? That was being subtle, although they both knew that 'incident' wasn't the real answer. Claire had huge problems and she meant to kill herself, plain and simple. However he did appreciate her apology. It was a start.  
  
  
Chris managed a small but faint smile, "Can you tell me what happened to her tonight? It's all a bit hazy."   
  
  
Watson folded her legs, she cupped her clipboard close to her chest, "The police believed that she was involved in an accident. She has cuts and bruises along her right arm and leg, and a bruise across her left cheek. The police also found an abandoned motorbike about two streets away from where she was picked up. They believe that it belongs to Claire."  
  
  
"Ok," he said quietly, "But I don't understand why she started screaming or attacking people."  
  
  
Watson hugged her clipboard harder, "That's why we believe that the contusions on her arm suggests that she's been injecting something into her," she paused for a moment, "A blood analysis was performed, however we only found small traces of a tranquilliser. Do you know if she takes any medication apart from the drugs prescribed by her psychiatrist?"  
  
  
He shook his head, "I never even knew she was seeing a psychiatrist or taking medication," he muttered.  
  
  
"They are for her delusions," she said, "They keep her from having a…breakdown."  
  
  
Chris glanced at her, "What would happen if she didn't take it?"  
  
  
"She would have the delusions again, however they are oral medication. I still cannot explain the contusions unless she was taken something else that would require a needle."  
  
  
"Drugs."  
  
  
"Yes, but due to the analysis it was tranquillisers. She could have easily gained tranquillisers off the streets."  
  
  
"No," he gasped, "That's not like her, she wouldn't have taken drugs!" He was getting very angry with her and her questions. He knew she was only finding out any possibilities that would shed some light about Claire's supposed 'habits'. But there was nothing to shed; Claire was completely clean, he knew this even if he wasn't there at the time. He knew deep down she wouldn't do that.  
  
  
"Look can I see her now?" he said getting fed up of Watson's obstruction between him and Claire.  
  
  
She sighed quietly, "Yes and thank you for your time," Chris stood up fast, "However I must warn you Claire has been sedated heavily and she's very groggy. She won't be able to speak to you because of the sedative, however she can hear you."  
  
  
"Why was she given a sedative?"  
  
  
"She tried to escape earlier on. She was erratic and unstable. It was necessary."  
  
  
Chris laughed slightly to himself, "That's my Claire."   
  
  
Watson stood up and led him to Claire's room, she opened the door and ushered him in. Before he had a chance to step inside and see Claire, Watson blocked the door and said, "The restraints are required, she attacked m-" she cut off, "She attacked a member of staff."  
  
  
He wasn't pleased but he couldn't do anything about it. If he made a fuss or scene all they had to do was to call security. It wouldn't help Claire.  
  
  
Watson headed out of the room and closed the door behind her. Chris turned to Claire, she lay on the bed silently, and it was as if she was dead rather than asleep. He hated to see her like that, helpless. Her hair was tangled and messy; a long white sheet covered her up to her neck. She did look peaceful, well too peaceful for his liking. There was a purple patch on her left cheek, it swelled her face and looked very painful. He moved from the door and sat down next to her.  
  
  
He cupped her hand and hugged it, "I'm here Claire, and you're safe now."  
  
  
He glanced down at her hand; it was pale and soft, however the back of her wrist felt different. Kind of rough. He turned it over and saw her cry for help. A light scar ran down her wrist, it was four centimetres long and looked like an angry wound. His sadness ran down his face and dripped quietly into her skin, the tears slid through the groove of the scar soaking the flesh over the vein.  
  
  
He faced her and let his guilt drain away, "Oh God Claire I'm so sorry!" he sniffed, "I wasn't there! But from now on I'll be with you! Not even fucking Umbrella can separate us!"   
  
  
Claire heard every word, she was sad to hear his guilt when he had nothing to feel guilty about. She desperately wanted to tell him to stop crying, but her essence was just so tired. She felt at ease and at the same time insecure. Her hand laid still within his, her body wasn't making the effort to squeeze it, to try and make him feel a little better.   
  
  
It wasn't his fault.  
  
  
She sighed mentally, her throat was dry and she needed to drink badly. But what she really needed was to get out of this God forsaken place. She didn't belong here, not again. Her memory was still a blur and it bothered her that she couldn't remember what happened before seeing the Tyrant.   
  
  
Oh yeah the Tyrant, why now was she seeing it? If she were to imagine anything it would only be Steve.   
  
  
It made no sense!  
  
  
Chris wiped his cheeks and sat up properly, "Leon's in the car," he said, "He really wanted to see you, but they won't allow non relatives in to visit. He was pissed and nearly knocked out the nurse for telling him that," he laughed.  
  
  
"He really likes you Claire. You're lucky to have him. He would do anything for you. Maybe tomorrow he could come."  
  
  
She laughed mentally; she would love just to feel Leon in her hands. For a fool he was what she needed. It was coming to the point that she earnestly wanted to see him. She needed him; she needed something to lean on. And she needed someone to make her smile.  
  
  
The door opened, "Mr Redfield?" called a woman. It was the doctor; she had come to take Chris away. Claire panicked frantically, her heart raced at an incredible speed. No! She wanted him to stay, that bitch was spoiling everything. It was her who made Claire sleep so deeply.  
  
  
"It's time for Claire to get her rest."  
  
  
Chris squeezed Claire's hand; he stood up and bent over her. Then kissing her on the forehead he whispered, "I'll be back tomorrow. Sweet dreams Claire."  
  
  
His warm hand vanished from hers and his faint footsteps faded outside. The door closed behind him and silence re-entered the room.  
  
  
Claire opened her eyes slightly, she stared at the door, "Chris," she whimpered.  
  
  
But it was too late he was gone. 


	19. Revelations And Tribulations

19  
  
  
She didn't know what time it was. Was it late or was it early? Time flew by slowly when her eyes were open and her mind was conscious, but when unconscious time felt as if it sped away from her as quickly as it could.   
  
  
She couldn't actually be a sleep for no more than half an hour?  
  
  
Wishful thinking. It had to be longer than that.  
  
  
Her room was dark, no lights other than the hall's, but that was behind a door with frosted glass. Her body felt a little stronger, the sedative was fading and her mind was returning.   
  
  
A plan. She needed to get out fast! Something wasn't right about her 'adventures' and current situation. Why couldn't she remember?  
  
  
She shook her head and strained at her straps. Great, these were plastic and had no Velcro. She struggled anyway, it was better to try and see if, by a miracle, they unfastened.  
  
  
She wiggled her feet.   
  
  
Nothing.  
  
  
She wiggled her wrists.   
  
  
Nothing.  
  
  
Claire relaxed back and sighed, "You can stop hiding now," she said.  
  
  
A figure moved from the corner and sat down on the edge of the bed, "How did you know?"  
  
  
Claire smiled, "Dealing with Umbrella sometimes has its rewards. You learn many things that keep you alive."  
  
  
"And why would you think I'm from Umbrella?" the voice was female.  
  
  
"I didn't say you're from Umbrella," Claire laughed slightly, "I wasn't even sure, but thank you Dr Watson for confirming it."  
  
  
Watson narrowed her eyes, "You know Claire you could have just walked away from the Antarctic without any hassles from my…" she searched for the correct word, "…employers…But you had to insist."  
  
  
"Why not kill me? I mean why waste money and time putting me into an asylum?"   
  
  
It was a curious question and yet it was also a lame and a very B-movie type question to ask.  
  
  
What-is-the-plan-before-you-kill-me-so-that-I-can-stop-you-against-huge-odds sort of question.   
  
  
Claire shuddered, it was too clichéd for her taste.  
  
  
She smirked as if Claire should already know the answer, "Come now Claire. Umbrella likes to make enemies suffer. You're punishment is very fitting. You lose your mind, either naturally or getting a little help from your friends. And every time you have an 'outburst' you get stuck in here longer and longer. And if you're a danger to people and yourself then you will never leave this place!"  
  
  
"But you're missing one tiny thing-"  
  
  
Watson stood up and moved to Claire, she moved back the sheet from her arm, "Your brother? He's already convinced that you have lost your mind. Your attempted suicide confirms any doubts that he had about Umbrella's involvement. Not to mention your drug problem. Face it Claire you're way out of your league here."  
  
  
She took out from her pocket a piece of string and a needle, the contents within the syringe glowed a beautiful metallic yellow. It practically looked golden.   
  
  
"Lovely looking concoction, don't you think?"   
  
  
She held it up and tapped the glass syringe lightly.  
  
  
Claire just glared at her, "Look just get on with it! No need for the small talk."  
  
  
Watson grinned, "Especially made by Umbrella," she said ignoring her last remark, "Used for very special occasions."  
  
  
She tied the string around Claire upper arm, when the brachial basilic vein appeared as a thin line sticking out underneath the skin Watson carefully inserted the needle. She pushed the liquid in until all were inside Claire. She pulled the needle out.  
  
  
Claire stared at her arm unable to do anything.  
  
  
Watson wiped the excess blood and covered it with a plaster. She undid the string and placed it as well as the syringe back into her lab coat.  
  
  
She then loosened the straps around Claire's wrist.  
  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
  
"To have another 'episode' you need to be freed," she walked to the back of the bed and loosened the straps on her feet and her other arm.   
  
  
Claire pulled at the straps, they came away. Watson stood by the door, it was half open, "Remember Claire give it your all," she laughed.  
  
  
The door closed behind her. Her shadow disappeared down the hall.  
  
  
Claire sat up pulling at her feet; she swung them round and stood up. She was already feeling light headed.   
  
  
The drug it was working.   
  
  
She rubbed her arm it was still sore. The door was just a few metres away from her; her freedom was just beyond the end of the bed. She had doubts. If she did go she could escape, but with the drug in her she would go berserk. But if she didn't go then she would be stuck in there.  
  
  
She gazed at the door, "Fuck!"  
  
  
She was in a fucking paradox! If she goes she stays, if she doesn't she stays!  
  
  
"Fuck it!" she decided better to attempt the impossible rather than sit on her ass and let her fate be controlled by Umbrella.   
  
  
She grabbed the side of the bed for support; her head was dizzy. She felt as if she just came off a roller coaster ride. She stood inches away from the door her head was spinning so crazily that she lost control of her legs. She fell to her knees cupping her head within her hands. She shook her head unable to regain her focus back; instead it made matters worse.  
  
  
She faced the door handle and concentrated, it was now or never. She pushed herself towards the door and dragged herself up. She twisted the handle and walked through.  
  
  
"Where do you think you're going?"  
  
  
Claire glanced to the right. Purple, she saw the bottom of a purple gown, "Oh God!" she whimpered.  
  
  
The woman laughed her irritating laugh, "Almost Claire."  
  
  
"It's the drug. You're not here."  
  
  
She laughed again, "Are you sure about that Claire?"  
  
  
"YES!" she screamed, "Chris killed you!"  
  
  
Claire glanced up and saw her white gloves, "You're not here!"  
  
  
"Tell me Claire how is Steve?"  
  
  
Hot anger ran through her body, she uttered his name. She had no right. She glared into her face, "You have no fucking right!"  
  
  
"What was it he said to me?" she paused and then smirked, "Oh yes, 'please…don't do this' he begged. Pathetic."  
  
  
Claire's self-control was dangling by a thread; she wasn't going to let Alexia get to her. But it was impossible, her rage took over her mind and before she knew it she was charging at Alexia screaming as loud as possible.  
  
  
Alexia stood calmly; instead of attacking or defending herself she just smiled as the insignificant girl came closer and closer to her.  
  
  
Claire raised her fist ready to knock her down, but Alexia was too fast. She grabbed Claire's arm and twisted it.  
  
  
"Stupid move Claire. What are you going to do now?"  
  
  
Claire gasped and fell to her knees. The pain was too much, Alexia was right Claire did act stupidly. She was too strong and powerful than her.  
  
  
She tightened her grip and flung her into the wall without losing her hold, "How's that Claire?"  
  
  
She didn't answer.  
  
  
Alexia flung her again, but into the opposite wall, "Any better?"  
  
  
"Fuck you!" Claire breathed.  
  
  
"Language Redfield you're in the presence of your Queen!"  
  
  
She raised Claire up above her and threw her down the hall. She flew through the air as if she was a bird, it seemed to take forever. The lino floor shone as she passed it by, her shadow darkened the reflective light of the shiny plastic. And then numbness, she assumed that her tangled body smashed the floor, since the wind wasn't blowing into her face anymore. Claire lay there unable to move, she lifted her head staring at the woman with the golden hair. She peeled away her right glove and tossed it to the floor.  
  
  
She stretched out her arm and with her thumbnail she cut the flesh. Red blood flowed down her arm dropping to the floor; in seconds it ignited flooding the entire floor in flames.  
  
  
Claire froze staring motionlessly at the beautiful monster, "Ever experienced burning flesh? The smell it never goes away and it keeps you from forgetting. The flesh bubbles cooking the muscle, fat and everything else underneath the skin. The pain it's…I don't know, I suppose only the screams of the inferno's victims could explain the unexplainable."  
  
  
She cupped some drops of blood in her palm. The tiny beads ignited within the cracks of her skin, "I personally love fire. It's part of me."  
  
  
She faced Claire and crossed the sea of flames underneath her; she walked slowly towards Claire taking her sweet time to do her evil deed. She stood over her and smiled, her arm stretched out above Claire, "Want to see, smell and feel flesh burn?"  
  
  
She laughed letting drops of blood fall aimlessly towards the feeble body. They fell in slow motion suspended within the air by invisible strings. The colour was deep red they reflected the light and mirrored Alexia and Claire.   
  
  
Claire closed her eyes and waited for the fire to begin. Waited for the heat to caress her body, killing her painfully.  
  
  
"Grab her! She's loose again!"  
  
  
Claire opened her eyes; two huge mothers of men were running towards her. Her eyes widen.  
  
  
Where the hell was Alexia?!  
  
  
It was too late for her to escape their grasp. They lunged into her knocking her back into the floor.  
  
  
"Quickly grab her arm," said the left.  
  
  
The other guy grabbed her arm and yanked it across her back, Claire screeched.  
  
  
"Take her to the 'Secure Unit'. Put her in cell seven," called Watson at the other end of the hall.  
  
  
The men dragged Claire up and led her to the 'Secure Unit'.  
  
  
Claire didn't understand anything; she didn't know what happened to her and why she was in the hall. She didn't even know how she escaped!  
  
  
And then there was Alexia. It was all like the Tyrant.   
  
  
She didn't struggle, for one she was weak and the other she just couldn't be bothered anymore.  
  
  
What the fuck was going on?! 


	20. Clean Up

20  
  
  
The Memorial Mental Institute was only one building, however it was huge. There were ten floors with at least twenty windows on each level.  
  
  
There was a lot to get through; however with the amount of soldiers on hand it would be a breeze.  
  
  
"Sir the perimeter is secure; no one can get in or out."  
  
  
"Excellent," he pulled down his shades and gazed at the building afar. It was night and yet he wore shades, most of the surrounding soldiers were shit scared of him. He didn't tolerate failure at all. His strangely orange-yellow eyes burned into the institute.   
  
  
He wore a black jacket over a black shirt, trousers and army boots. He just liked the colour, reminded him of death. Three small letters were embroidered into the left breast of his jacket.  
  
  
H.C.F  
  
  
"I want a sweep of the entire complex," he said to the young soldier next to him.  
"Yes sir!" he saluted, "What about the patients and doctors sir?"  
  
  
Wesker pushed back his shades and faced the man, "This is also a 'clean up' operation soldier," he hissed.  
  
  
It was H.C.F's policy when dealing with rival corporations. 'Clean up' said it all, the soldiers were to go in and kill every single person in the building.   
  
  
No survivors were allowed.   
  
  
To Wesker giving that command was nothing; it didn't affect him like it would the expendable soldiers standing in front of him. If he could he would drop a bomb on the building and have done with it. Yet inside was something more important than anything. Well to him.  
  
  
The soldier nodded and backed away.  
  
  
Wesker faced the building again, his blonde hair shone under the moonlight, he smiled. He could almost taste the T-Veronica virus in the air. He was thankful that he wouldn't have to deal with Alexia. She was a mean bitch. It was only a matter of time before they would storm the asylum and gain access to the secret lab.  
  
  
Umbrella's time was ticking away fast. 


	21. The Fun Never Stops

21  
  
  
Claire lay at the back of the padded cell. It had been over two hours since she was caught. It was still all a puzzle to her. The Tyrant and now Alexia.  
  
  
Was she really losing her mind? Or was it all a bad nightmare? She hoped for the latter so she could wake up next to Steve. Her cell was dark, part of the punishment maybe. Whatever it was she was glad for the darkness. Her head was aching and she couldn't deal with light at the moment.  
  
  
She pushed back her hair and turned to her back, she gazed at the ceiling. It was almost silent except for the next-door neighbours' excessive cries and wails. She couldn't blame them; she would too wail however she was restraining herself.   
  
  
She wasn't crazy and even if she was there was no need to act it.  
  
  
They threw her in there with nothing more than the hospital gown she was wearing. At least they didn't sedative her again. That was one good thing out of the many that weren't.  
  
  
"Nice place," he said, "Very comfy."  
  
  
Claire sat up and smiled, "Yeah, wherever you sit it's always comfy. Pity its cold though."  
  
  
He scooted over to her and wrapped an arm round her, "How's this?"  
  
  
She snuggled against his warmth, "Lovely," she said, "Now work your magic to get me out of here."  
  
  
He laughed, a warm sound filled with happy memories, he hugged her close, "I wish I could Claire."  
  
  
She sighed leaning her head on his chest, "Can you shed any light over the last day? I'm confused."   
  
  
Steve shrugged, "Sorry my angel but I'm confused too."  
  
  
He gently laid a hand on her knee for support and understanding. She appreciated it, "I've got a bad feeling that something isn't right. But I just don't know what!"  
  
  
"Me either, I wish I could help you but I don't know anything," he stroked her hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead, "Lets just sit here and enjoy the moment yeah?"  
  
  
Claire giggled quietly, "Sure thing." She settled back into him and released the tension within her body.  
  
  
"That's better," he whispered by her ear.  
  
  
The light within the corridor outside shone brightly, it was enough for Claire to make out her surrounds, and she didn't care about getting out or anything at the moment. She just wanted to sit by Steve and forget everything.  
  
  
She gazed at the light, it flashed slightly and vanished. Claire sat up straight, "Did you see that?"   
  
  
Here was no answer. She turned back to Steve but he was gone. He always did that at the wrong time. She sighed and walked closer to the door, she peered out of the small window.   
  
  
It was dark too dark.  
  
  
Her neighbours were panicking, their wailing and screaming intensified, they banged the walls and doors scared of the dark. This wasn't right; doctors or nurses should have come to calm them down. It was too quiet, a nurse normally passed by her cell every hour. Time was up and yet no nurse passed by.   
  
  
Oddly strange since they ran like clockwork.  
  
  
Claire settled back on the floor next to the door, she huddled in the corner with her knees in her chest. She was scared, the unknown and unexplainable was scary.  
  
  
There was noise, a faraway sound echoed in the corridor. Claire stood up again and placed her face as close as possible to the glass.  
  
  
What the hell was that noise?  
  
  
It sounded a bit like rain, but heavier, bigger and very loud. It almost sounded like gunshots, lots of them. But it couldn't be. The constant screaming was making her think paranoid thoughts.  
  
  
She bashed the metal door in anger, "Shut up!" she shouted.  
  
  
It didn't stop.   
  
  
"Shut the fuck up!" she cried again.   
  
  
No use.  
  
  
She pulled back her hair; she was suddenly hot and sticky. Strange since she was cold not long ago. She angled herself so that she could see down the hall; there was something there. It moved like it was a shadow. It wore black and stalked the hall quietly.  
  
  
That was no doctor or nurse.  
  
  
It moved closer to a cell, her vision was cut off and she couldn't see if it went in or not. She stayed were she was and watched.  
  
  
Seconds passed and a bright light flashed several times before it vanished, small round objects fell to the floor in silent pitter-patters.  
  
  
She held her hand to her mouth and moved away from the door. She stopped herself from screaming, from running around her small excuse for a cell, from banging at the door for help. It wasn't a doctor or nurse. It was something trained to use a weapon.  
  
  
The pitter-patter sounds were louder, her neighbours wailing turned to hurtful screams for mercy. She could imagine their blood draining onto the white soft floor. Their warm blood cooling around their lifeless bodies. She could just see the bullets flying through the air particles towards their fragile bodies, penetrating the flesh. Their bodies jerking back as each bullet entered.   
  
  
Their blood painting the air a deep scarlet as each bullet passed through.   
  
  
It did two cells already and she was the seventh. Four more before it came to hers.  
  
  
She panicked she didn't know what to do or how to protect herself. First thing was to calm down. That was easily said than done.   
  
  
Calming down can be done later.   
  
  
Cell three dead.  
  
  
How to protect herself? Right…there wasn't anything to use to protect herself! Except her fist. But that was useless IT had an assault rifle!  
  
  
Cell four dead.  
  
  
Where to hide? Hide?! Hide?! There's no fucking place to fucking hide!   
  
  
Cell five dead.  
  
  
The metal door opened outwards, that was another problem. It would give whatever trigger-happy son of a bitch out there an advantage.   
  
  
Cell six dead.  
  
  
She stood close to the side of the door and waited. It was too late for any plan. It was outside looking in. It took its time since it couldn't find her. Her heart rate sprinted; it was hard enough for her breathing to keep up with her heart. If it didn't come in, her heart was going to kill her even if it didn't.  
  
  
She pressed her back closer to the wall.   
  
  
The door opened.  
  
  
Whoever it was out here hesitated for a few seconds. The nozzle of the assault rifle peered into the cell, yet the individual was still outside.  
  
  
The black metal gun moved closer inside the cell. It was the spur of the moment or something because she grabbed the side of the weapon and drove it backwards into its face.  
  
  
He groaned dropping the weapon. He held his face, startled and in pain.   
  
  
Claire kicked him in the head. Hard.   
  
  
He fell to the floor. She kicked him again in the head, the chest and stomach area.  
  
  
He laid back and seemed unconscious; she picked up the assault rifle and poked him in the gut.   
  
  
He didn't move.  
  
  
Blood trailed down his head, strands of his hair clung together in a purple mess.  
  
  
She grimaced and searched him for anything. Items like a flashlight or even another weapon. All that was on him was a combat knife and a half eaten chocolate bar. She scoffed the chocolate happy to have something in her stomach. She swung the rifle round her back and held the knife in her hand.  
  
  
She walked to the door and peered round to view the corridor.  
  
  
Nothing.  
  
  
She stepped out; the floor was too cold for her bare feet. She glanced down at her flimsy hospital gown. That was it apart from her knickers. She didn't want to go out like this, especially if there were more people like him.  
  
  
She turned to the guy on the floor. He was out cold thank goodness. He wore a black jacket over a navy t-shirt. His trousers were black as well as his boots. Claire bent down and began to strip him. She pulled off his boots first, then his trousers and lastly his jacket.  
  
  
He lay on the floor with nothing more than his boxer shorts and navy t-shirt. He looked cute for a killer.  
  
  
She grabbed his trousers and pulled them up, it wasn't the greatest fit but with the belt it secured around her waist lovely. A little baggy but good enough for something that was spontaneous. It had a knife sheath on the side, which was perfect for the combat knife.   
  
  
With her gown she left it on, however she tucked it into the pants. She put on the jacket and zipped it just above her breasts.   
  
  
With the boots she tied the laces together and swung them round her shoulders. They made too much noise and with the other trigger-happy S.O.Bs out there it was a sacrifice that was necessary.  
  
  
She strapped the rifle around her neck and began walking slowly out into the corridor.  
  
  
It wasn't going to be a great night as usual. 


	22. Disaster, Wesker And The Absent Doctor

22  
  
  
Claire peered down the corridor, the nurses' station was deserted, and no dead bodies were lying on the floor either. But within the cells there were.  
  
  
She slid against the far wall; she tried to avoid seeing the death that inhabited the now quiet cells. It was getting hard; her curiosity was winning her over. She stared at the far metal bars from her; it was wide open, which was great. No need to look for a key.  
  
  
Something caught her eyes; a thick red liquid crossed her path. She glared at it as if it was something hypnotic; she followed the purple trail into the cell. She knew what to expect but she just couldn't turn away from the shimmering colour.  
  
  
A body sat in the back of the cell, she didn't know if the body was man or female, its face was blown away with only a hole in the middle. Its drenched purple hair stuck to the remaining skin on the mutilated face. The hospital gown was, again, reddy-purple. The material stuck down onto its chest as if it was another skin. There were small holes allowing her to see almost inside the victim. The strong metallic smell wafted from the floor and blended with the air.   
  
  
Claire choked; she sidestepped away from the open door and slipped.   
  
  
She fell to the floor, but it was wet, she quickly scrambled away creating red marks along the shiny lino. Her feet were dripping with blood, "Fuck!" she squeaked.   
  
  
She stood up gazing down at her feet, the blood was drying quickly. Its redness seeped into the cracks of her skin. Her bottom was soaked with blood. She hit the wall angry with herself. There was nothing she could do, the blood would have to stay until she could find something to clean it off, or try to.  
  
  
She ran down the corridor avoiding all five cells within her pathway. Just beyond the metal gate was a window. She walked towards it gaining her breath back; she stood close to the wall next to the window and observed the ground floor. Three black cars stood silently near the entrance gate. Four black vans were scattered as well and yet there weren't anyone down there. She assumed they were already within the building.   
  
  
All of them.   
  
  
Were they Umbrella? Or some other corporation? Who knew? She only wanted to get out. Alive!  
  
  
She passed the window and noticed an elevator. Ten squares with numbers in them lay above the metal doors. The electricity was down and so would the elevators, so she headed down a stairway. She must have been on the top level because there were only stairways going down. She gently walked down; the blood on her feet stopped coming away, the footprints she left behind wasn't such a good idea. Those commandos would think that someone was still alive and would come after her. She couldn't do anything about that, if they did come she just have to do her best to hide.  
  
  
"What's taking him so long?"   
  
  
Claire froze; the male voice was emanating from below her. She leant forward and grasped the banister. Two heads were walking up. Claire gasped; she fearfully searched for a room. She grabbed a doorknob from behind her and twisted. The door opened and she closed it quietly.  
  
  
"It doesn't take that long! I'll bet you a week's wage that he's lounging around."  
  
  
"Keep your money," the other said.  
  
  
"Why so glum? Can't hack it?"  
  
  
"Can't hack it? Do you even care what we're doing? These people are innocent! And we're killing them!"  
  
  
"SHUT UP! You want Wesker to hear?! You knew what we were going to do and you still came!"  
  
  
Claire crouched behind a chair, that name sounded so familiar. Wesker, she swore she remembered that name from somewhere but it was a huge blank.  
  
  
"I came because I had to! And I don't care if Wesker hears me. He's all talk," the man was filled to the brim with bitterness.   
  
  
"You're fucking crazy!" his voice was almost shaky, "You keep this up and you're dead."  
  
  
"Why would he die?"  
  
  
There was a long silence, whoever was the third person he had a huge affect over the two men. It had to this 'Wesker', his voice was deep and yet it held something sinister within it.  
  
  
"I meant that he would be in deep trouble," his voice trembled; he was scare, "sir."   
  
  
"Private you can leave if you wish," something wasn't right with the way he said it, he had a hidden agenda.  
  
  
"Are you sure sir?"   
  
  
"Yes," plain and simple, with a hint of wickedness.  
  
  
"Don't," whispered the first guy.  
  
  
The second man didn't even listen. He moved forward and passed Wesker.  
  
  
"Oh before you go," Wesker said, "You forgot something."  
  
  
The footsteps of the man halted. Suddenly there was a gurgling sound as if someone was drowning. It stopped and something dropped with a loud thud.  
  
  
"Do you want to go?"  
  
  
"N-no…s-sir," he whimpered, it was the first guy. The second went quiet.  
  
  
"Then get to work!" Wesker said walking away.  
  
  
Claire couldn't hear the first guys footsteps, he stood were he was voiceless.   
  
  
"Stupid," he finally said and then walked away from the door.   
  
  
Claire stood from behind the chair and sat down in it. It was all getting too much and whatever went on out there she knew that it wasn't pleasant.  
  
  
Her soaked trousers slopped around on the leather chair. She felt the nasty coldness of the blood on her warm flesh. She twirled within the chair trying to figure out her next move. Suddenly she stopped abruptly glaring at a pair of high-heeled feet sticking out of a room near her. She stood up and walked towards the body, she recognised the heels, the white lab coat, which was now stained with blood, and the tightly wrapped brown-blonde bun. A pair of broken glasses lay next to the body, the glass was shattered, and the jagged pieces were the only thing that remained.  
  
  
Claire knelt down and pulled the body over to its back.   
  
  
Dr Watson.   
  
  
She had five bullet holes within her chest. Claire bent her head in sadness, it had only been hours since she was alive and now her mangled body lay mutilated on the floor like an abandoned doll. Claire straightened herself and walked back to the chair.  
  
  
"You cease to amaze me Redfield," choked a voice.  
  
  
Claire turned back to Watson, she looked up at Claire and coughed, she was dying fast. Blood dribbled down the side of her mouth, she smiled and it was a terrible sight. The pain was so clear; it took everything she had to move her lips. Even though she did smile, it wasn't pleasant, not because she was injured because there was something she knew and wasn't telling.  
  
  
Claire knelt beside Watson, she gently pushed Watson's coat over the wounds to stop the bleeding.  
  
  
Watson laughed, more blood poured out from her mouth, "I'm dead Claire! Leave it be!"  
  
  
She quickly shoved Claire's hands away from her wounds, "Don't be stupid! The bleeding needs to stop!"  
  
  
She laughed again, but no sound came from her red lips, only a heavy gurgling sound. Her lungs were punctured, blood was filling into them quickly, and she didn't have enough time.  
  
  
Watson closed her eyes and gasped, "Umbrella doesn't pay me enough for this shit."  
  
  
Claire narrowed her eyes, "What?"  
  
  
"Yes Claire you heard me correctly…Umbrella are my employers!"  
  
  
"I don't understand?!" she said falling back onto her bottom.  
  
  
"And maybe you never will. Haven't you wondered why this nut house is being attacked by commandos?"  
  
  
Claire fell silent, she knew things didn't make sense to her, but she still wasn't sure if she was losing her mind or not. Or if it was all Umbrella's fault, as usual.  
  
  
She coughed again, "Haven't you wondered why everyone is dead and why you can't remember things?"  
  
  
She was right, why didn't she think about it before? But she did! But that reasoning wasn't as liable as the reason of becoming insane. She had problems way before Umbrella entered her life. And she just assumed it was her.  
  
  
Watson coughed again, "Since the ass-wipes out there have completely cut off the electricity, well let's just say you won't be alone. Any tampering to Umbrella's security system and all that dwells in here will die," she sniggered, "even Umbrella's employees. Their 'experiments' should be out by now looking for blood," she smiled revealing her white teeth as red.  
  
  
Claire stood up; she reached for the rifle and aimed it at Watson, "All you fucking people are exactly the same! Why do you do it?"  
  
  
She convulsed, her death was soon, "Are you trying to reach the human in me Claire?" she laughed, "Oh please spare me! I do this because…I'm bored? How's that for an answer?"  
  
  
Claire clenched the weapon, her hands were turning white. The tension in her body mounted, "You really are a bitch!"  
  
  
"I am what…I…am…"  
  
  
Her body convulsed again, more and more blood gushed from the holes within her chest and out her mouth. Claire stood back staring at her. Watson stopped moving; her eyes glared out up the ceiling. Her pupils were black and wide. Her mouth still held that offensive grin dripping in red.  
  
  
She was dead.  
  
  
"You fucking bitch!" she said kicking Watson's side. It was hopeless even more. Dealing with commandos was difficult but Umbrella's 'experiments'?!   
  
  
Claire turned to her desk and searched for a file or something. She opened the drawers. Nothing more than papers, pens and pencils were in them. However the last drawer was locked. Claire took off the rifle and laid it on the chair, she glanced at Watson and realised that she would have to search her for a key.  
  
  
Claire walked to her and knelt down; she checked the outside pockets of the lab coat. There was nothing of any use apart from a used syringe and a piece of string.   
  
  
She peeled the coat away from Watson's chest to gain access to the inside pocket.   
  
  
Again Nothing.   
  
  
Unless she was wearing it as a chain. Claire sighed; she really hated searching dead bodies, especially covered in blood.   
  
  
She began unbuttoning the first two buttons of Watson's shirt and there it was, the Holy Grail. The key was dripping in blood; she reached for it closing her eyes. The blood was cold now and the body was almost cold. She quickly unfastened the chain and pulled it away from her neck. Wiping the blood off the key she walked back to the desk and shoved the key into the lock. She twisted it and small click sound was heard. She opened the drawer and found…nothing. There wasn't anything inside.  
  
  
Claire kicked the side of the drawer in anger; she searched a dead body for nothing! And on top of that she would suffer from nightmares. She was about to kick the drawer again when she saw a black folder peeping from under a removable lid. She laughed; her anger helped her to find something for once, which was strange, it normally made things worse. She slid the cover back and pulled out the folder and sat back into the leather chair.   
  
  
A small Umbrella symbol lay on the cover.   
  
  
It looked too familiar to her. 


	23. Fricking Psychiatrists

23  
  
  
"To: Dr. Watson  
From: xxxxxx   
Date: xxxxxx  
  
I am leaving it up to you to deal with the Redfields. I know you will not fail me. They need to be dealt with, however time isn't really an issue. They are, as I write this, sent on a 'wild goose chase'. The brother of the two must die, he has caused me enough trouble and I don't want anymore; it is only the sister I'm interested in. She needs to pay! She needs to suffer! I have included her psyche file; I know you'll find it very interesting as I have.   
  
Do what you may; I want her to be tormented. I know you'll make me proud.  
  
Oh yes I nearly forgot, Kennedy can die along with Redfield, he's inferior. And remember if this mission is not succeeded then I want pay back Watson. And you know how much the fee costs.  
  
xxxxxx"  
  
  
The e-mail and Claire's bio/psyche file was all that was inside the folder. She couldn't understand who would want her to suffer so much.   
  
  
There were also photos of her. They looked like surveillance pictures. What was strange that some of them where taken after the Antarctic, even before she attempted suicide. But it was hard to know how long she was being watched if only the date on the e-mail was there.   
  
  
She turned the folder round and empted everything onto the desk, a card fell out.   
  
  
She picked it up and examined it; it was a standard white card. There was a code at the back with Watson's name, picture and a metallic strip. The code read 'UWD 2310' in small back letters. On the front was a name of the institute. Claire shoved the card in the jacket pocket.   
  
  
She knew it would be useful later on.   
  
  
She opened up her psyche file; it had everything about her since the death of her parents. There were analysis reports of her 'trips' to her psychiatrist. And everything she said during her sessions was also noted down.   
  
  
She read the first session. It was word from word. She remembered her first session like it was yesterday, it was barely days after her near-death experience when she met her psychiatrist…  
  
  
The receptionist ushered Claire into the room, however she stopped at the threshold. The chubby woman waddled in front announcing her arrival. A young blacked hair man peered from his desk and smiled. Claire stood motionless, still standing under the doorframe looking in at the man, her psychiatrist. Her wrists were tightly bounded within layers and layers of white bandages. They were healing however they seemed to ache a lot and sometimes reopen slightly. The receptionist turned to Claire and smiled, Claire knew what she was thinking, 'why isn't she coming in?'  
  
  
And the answer to that was, well, she was scared. Scared that the too-young-to-be-a-psychiatrist would brand her a loony toon. She didn't want to pour her most intimate or suicidal thoughts out to a complete stranger. It would be too weird. But it beat telling Chris or someone close like that.  
  
  
"Abby that will be all, thank you," he said to the middle aged gawkier.  
  
  
She jerked just a little awaking from her trance, "Yes sir," she said and walked passed Claire towards her desk.  
  
  
Claire gazed at her wrists and rubbed them, she avoided eye contact, and she was embarrassed being where she was. She felt almost like a vampire, she had to be invited in or else she couldn't go in.  
  
  
"Claire?" he said in a very friendly tone, "You can come in if you want to."  
  
  
She looked up at him and then at her feet. And then she was moving inside the room, her heart was pumping frantically.  
  
  
He stood up and walked to her slowly, as if not to disturb her fragile state. He wore black jeans and a simple woollen jumper. He was very casual, even his trainers were casual.   
  
  
She began to feel a little bit at ease.   
  
  
She wasn't very well dressed either, trainers, jeans and a black long-sleeved top under a black jacket. However her hair, it was tied quickly into a ponytail, some strands weren't in place.   
  
  
It looked a little messy.   
  
  
Her skin was very pale, lack of sleep, there were dark circles round her eyes and they were also bloodshot.   
  
  
Too much crying.   
  
  
She was very weak and tired, and it took all her effort, with the help of some nurses, to get her into the waiting room.   
  
  
He offered his hand, "I'm Michael Rivera, but everyone calls me Mike." No Dr. Rivera or Dr. Mike, which was strange since most doctors preferred them to be called doctor. She liked him that bit more for being informal; it made it all easier to do.  
  
  
She stared at his hand as if it was a new thing, she just wasn't sure to shake it or not. But she knew that it was only her paranoia making things worse. She took his hand, he wrapped his around hers gently and shook, "See that wasn't so bad," he smiled.  
  
  
Claire returned a smile because it was hard not to, he had that smile that couldn't be turned down, "No," she said quietly, "It wasn't."  
  
  
He moved from her and glared at the receptionist behind the desk, "Get back to work," he mouthed closing the door.  
  
  
His office was so woody, a wooden desk, chairs, floor and not to mention wooden panels across the walls. Too many trees died for this room. The office was quite big, only a desk, two metal cabinets, which stood out from all the wood, four chairs and a leather couch. It almost looked like it was a film set.   
  
  
A very stereotypical psychiatrist office.   
  
  
He came back to her and directed her to the couch, "Please sit." She did as she was told, mainly because her physical doctor would only allow her to go home if she attended one session with 'Mike'. It was only an hour and thankfully she had already wasted twenty minutes with her dawdling.  
  
  
Mike sat opposite her in one of the wooden chairs; in his hand he held a clipboard and pen.  
  
  
He sat up and glanced at her, "You can put your feet up," he said, "I won't bite."  
  
  
She sighed and lay out on the couch comfortably, "What's the point of this?" she said, "I mean I'm only here because I silt my wrists."  
  
  
"Why did you silt your wrists?"  
  
  
She frowned, "Because I was bored," she said sarcastically, "Why do you think I silt my wrists?!"  
  
  
He gave that shrink look that meant everything and nothing, "I don't know what was going through your head at that moment. I can only assume that you were very distressed."  
  
  
"I wasn't distressed! I'm a fricking deranged idiot to have done that."  
  
  
He scribbled something down, "What are you doing?" she said looking annoyingly at him.  
  
  
He glanced at her, "I'm making notes. I have too."  
  
  
"Why? That's so annoying; it's like you don't care what I'm saying."  
  
  
"Claire I have to write down things about our session. If you prefer I can tape record it," he pulled out a small rectangular tape recorder from his jean pocket. Claire stared at it, she didn't like having her thoughts taped. If someone got a hold of it they would know her unspoken thoughts.  
  
  
She shook her head, "No, I think you should keep writing."  
  
  
He smiled and settled back into his chair, "If you knew it was idiotic to have done it then why did you?"  
  
  
He had her there; she did know it was wrong even when she saw the blood running down her arms and to the floor. She glared down at her wrists and breathed out, "I suppose it was a cry for help. I just couldn't deal with the pain anymore."  
  
  
"And what pain was this Claire?"  
  
  
"Dealing with his death," she murmured.  
  
  
"Who's death?"  
  
  
"Steve," she replied, "He died and left me all alone just like my parents."   
  
  
He noted something down again.  
  
  
"How did he die?"  
  
  
She woke from her daze and wiped her eyes, "He died enough said."  
  
  
"Ok, how are you feeling after your 'incident'?"  
  
  
She laughed bitterly, "'Incident' that's a nice way of putting it. Even though I meant to kill myself. It wasn't an 'incident' it was deliberate!"  
  
  
He wrote on his clipboard, "Fine it was 'deliberate', but how are you coping?" He was like a machine, sometimes he had emotions and then he didn't. She glanced at the clock above the door, she only had ten more minutes and she was out of there until the next session.  
  
  
"I'm doing alright. Physically I'm so tired and mentally I'm numb. To be honest I still can't believe what I've done. It's almost a blur to me."  
  
  
"Do you sometimes wish that you did finish it?" That was an almost cold way of putting it.  
  
  
"Yeah sometimes. I can't sleep because I see the blood. And when the tiredness gets to me I do sometimes wish that I 'finished it' and then I don't."  
  
  
"Why is that?"  
  
  
"Mainly because of my brother. I don't want to leave him alone; I'm all he's got."  
  
  
"Have you told him?"  
  
  
Claire sat up, she didn't like where the session was going, "No."  
  
  
"Would you?"  
  
  
"No," she repeated, "I'm not going to burden him with my problems. Look times up doctor!"  
  
  
He stared at her and then at the clock, two o'clock exactly, "I believe I'm suppose to say that," he laughed.  
  
  
Claire only smiled; she was dying to get out of that room, "Can I go?" She felt like a child asking the teacher to go home.  
  
  
"Yes," he said, "However I hope to see you next week."  
  
  
She nodded her head, "Yeah sure thing," she mumbled almost running to the door.  
  
  
Mike stood, "Claire?" she stopped and turned round, "You know it's voluntary."  
  
  
She stared at him. She didn't know it was voluntary. But did it make a difference? Maybe.  
  
  
"I'll be here next week," she said, "For sure…"   
  
  
Claire closed the folder and sat back in the leather chair. Things, many things had changed since that day. She was actually getting a little better, although the visions of Steve weren't helping. But she could control them enough.  
  
  
She grasped the papers in her hand, there weren't that many, she only had about twenty sessions. She kept the folder and especially the e-mail; she needed to find out who sent it.   
  
  
It was vital!  
  
  
She glanced at Watson's body and realised that she didn't check the other room. She got up and stepped over the body.   
  
  
The room wasn't big at all. Only small. There was a locker and a cabinet on the wall. The locker was open; she peered inside and found a pair of black jeans and a red sleeveless crew neck top. Claire smiled, clean clothes, if fitted were a great blessing. She stripped down to her knickers and dressed in the top and jeans. Using the combat knife sheath she wrapped the belt round her waist securing it tightly. With the hospital gown she tried her best to clean the blood off her feet. It didn't help, but it did get some of it off. She put the army boots on and tied the laces tightly. With the black jacket she put that back on.  
  
  
There wasn't anything else inside the locker other than another white lab coat and a small black rucksack, she took it and checked the lab coat's pockets.   
  
  
Nothing.  
  
  
She abandoned the locker and checked the cabinet; it was locked, however the keyhole was small. She turned to the opened drawer in the desk.   
  
  
Watson's key! It was the only thing that could open it. It was the only key present.  
  
  
She ran back to the desk and pulled the key out. She walked to the cabinet and shoved it in the hole. It fitted like a dream, she twisted it and the door opened. Inside was a small white bottle filled with green capsules.   
  
  
About seven to be exact.   
  
  
She opened it up and tipped one capsule in her hand. It was green all right and it seemed to glow. She put it back into the bottle and read the instructions on the side:  
  
  
"Green Herb Capsules/G.H.C (in powder form) used for wounds, bruises and small abrasions.   
  
NOT FOR ORAL USE.   
Keep away from children under fifteen years of age.   
  
DIRECTIONS- Break one capsule and rub powder gently into wound, bruise or abrasion and leave. DO NOT touch eyes or mouth, if so please SEEK medical advice."   
  
  
It was handy if things escalated anymore, which they would, knowing Umbrella. She threw it into the bag with the folder and zipped it up.   
  
  
She walked to the door and took a deep breath before heading out. 


	24. SOS

24  
  
  
Blood surrounded the commando; his throat was ripped out leaving nothing more than a butchered mess of flesh, bone and blood. It was Wesker's doing; she knew something was very wrong when the gurgling sound came from behind the door. It was the man who 'had enough' or in the words of his friend couldn't 'hack it'. But there was something very odd about the way his throat was ripped apart, the flesh wasn't just silt, it wasn't even silt. It was as if Wesker pulled his skin away with his bare hands. His eyes still held the surprise in them.   
  
  
He didn't have a chance.  
  
  
Claire sidestepped away from him, it was coming to a point were she could deal with the death and blood. That was a very scary thought; no one should deal with it. It's not a normal thing, but to Claire it was becoming very normal.  
  
  
She stepped over the body avoiding the thick redness on the floor and headed down the stairs. She stopped for a fraction of a second to hear for anything. Nothing, but she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, especially with non-humanoids now in the equation. What she needed was help, she needed a phone, but with the power down that was impossible. She had to warn Chris and Leon about the 'wild goose chase' and that it was the mental institute, which was Umbrella's headquarters and not in Raccoon City.   
  
  
She began walking down again when she suddenly heard screaming from behind a door. She froze scared that whatever was in there would come after her and if the other commandos heard the screams they would come up and find her. It stopped abruptly and no one came to rescue their comrade. She clutched the rifle tightly and walked to the door, her hand hesitated at first over the handle, she still wasn't sure to go in. She didn't even know why she was going in; it wasn't like the guy gave a shit about the people he was shooting at. But nevertheless his screams were too painful to just leave him behind with whatever was in there.  
  
  
She twisted the metal handle and pushed the door open. It was dark, too dark, but without the lights she couldn't do anything about it other than walk away. She didn't, she stayed were she was and peered in. It was a waiting room, chairs laid along the far wall with a vending machine. A desk with a computer and papers on the surface, a metal cabinet behind and a chair.  
  
  
She walked forward and tripped over something, she quickly sat up to see what it was. The dead commando lay flat out on the floor surrounded by his own blood, it was the one who she heard screaming. He looked dead yet his body was convulsing slightly. Claire scrambled away from the carcass and climbed a chair.   
  
  
Whatever killed him was not human.   
  
  
His abdomen was torn away, with some of his internal organs hanging out of the huge hole. Claire held her hand to her mouth; she was about to throw up. The smell was disgusting and the sight was enough to make a coroner faint. His neck had been bitten into; a chuck of his flesh was missing leaving his Adams apple poking out of his throat. And the blood, it seemed as if he had too much with all the mess. His body jerked unexpectedly making Claire recoil backwards. This wasn't good, whatever killed him had to be near.  
  
  
In his right hand he held a handgun; she moved from her chair and bent down towards him. She tried prying the gun away from his death grip but it wasn't budging. She only thought of one thing, to smash his hand, so she straightened up and stomped on his grip. Nothing happened so she did it again and again until the fourth time his grip gave way. She reached for it realising that she left sole marks imprinted on his skin, she didn't mean to treat the dead so badly but it was necessary for her survival.   
  
  
She shoved the gun in her jacket pocket. There was a red trail leading from the man's blood to another room. She followed the trail until she met two joint doors, 'Nightingale Ward' it said in huge black letters above the doors. She pushed it open avoiding the blood trail. Inside were loads of beds along the far left and right walls. There were bared windows on the far right wall behind each bed. The moonlight showed too many things she didn't want to see especially the sheets, they were soaked in blood. She saw a hand sticking out here and a foot there.   
  
  
They were killed within their sleep. Hopefully, for their sake.   
  
  
She couldn't see any of their faces, which was a blessing, but she saw enough blood to know that they weren't alive.  
  
  
She followed the trail, it ran straight through the centre of the row of beds, and there at the end was a woman.   
  
  
She laid on the floor still.   
  
  
Her white uniform indicated that she was the night nurse. Claire moved up closer and knelt by her. She quickly averted her eyes from the monstrosity that was once a human. The poor nurse's face was no more, her eyes were gone showing the inside of her brain. Her jaw was wide open revealing no tongue. The blood had already coagulated into a heap of red goo around her face.   
  
  
She had also gunshot holes in her chest, which may have suggested that she was barely alive when attacked by whatever or already dead.   
  
  
Claire hoped for the latter since she wouldn't have felt any pain.  
  
  
She sat back and sighed pushing back her hair; her head was beginning to ache again. She rubbed her eyes tired of all the dead that surrounded her.  
  
  
She suddenly jumped back, there was a ringing sound coming from the nurse. She laughed at herself for being so stupid. It was only a mobile.  
  
  
It was only a mobile!   
  
  
Claire moved closer, she needed that phone badly; she had to get through to Chris now!  
  
  
She checked the woman's pockets and found a small silver coloured mobile phone. She flipped it open.   
  
  
The phone was still shaking and ringing in her palm.  
  
  
Home calling… it said.  
  
  
Claire didn't want to but she pressed cancel. The phone stopped moving. She felt so bad for doing that, whoever it was knew the dead nurse. Maybe her husband or even her child, ringing mummy because he/she was scared of the dark.  
  
  
Claire took a deep breath and dialled her number. She waited impatiently for someone to pick up…  
  
  
"Hello?"  
  
  
"Leon? It's me Claire! I need help! It's Umbrella who put me into this asylum-"  
  
  
"Claire whoa calm down and start from the top," he said.  
  
  
"Put Chris on now!" she hissed. He was wasting her time.  
  
  
There was a very long pause before anyone answered.  
  
  
"Claire? What's going on?!"  
  
  
Finally Chris, someone with a brain, "Chris I need help! This institute is Umbrella's bloody headquarters. That Watson doctor is a fucking Umbrella agent and everyone is dead Chris. Some commandos attacked and killed everyone!"  
  
  
"Claire are you sure you're not upset or anything?"  
  
  
"What the fuck is that suppose to mean?! Because I've got some problems you automatically think I'm chatting bullshit?! Umbrella is here Chris and I'm stuck in the middle. We've got a chance to finish Umbrella off once and for all! Now get your fucking ass down here with some fire power, because I'm not just dealing with humans Chris!"  
  
  
She stopped taking a few deep breaths, "We'll be right here in no time! Keep the mobile with you and stay well hidden," he almost shouted it, he signalled to Leon.   
  
  
"I don't think I can stay hidden, there are commandos everywhere and I don't know what else! I need you here Chris now-"  
  
  
Out of nowhere a dark figure swiftly jumped from the shadows towards her, she only saw red dribbling down teeth before dropping the mobile for her rifle; the phone slipped away and crashed to the floor in a million pieces.   
  
  
"Claire?! Claire?!" screamed Chris. There was nothing, she wasn't there anymore.  
  
  
He turned to Leon, "The phone went dead." 


	25. Cereberus

25  
  
  
The hairy beast flung her back into the wall, its long black claws slashed into her flesh. She screamed unable to hold the pain back. She quickly gathered her concentration and crawled away holding the rifle close. She automatically climbed a bed stepping onto the soaked bed sheets. It squished under her boots; she was so glad that she used them instead of going barefoot. A body laid in between her feet, the coldness of the flesh sunk into her trousers like ice. She badly wanted to scream and flee from the nasty feeling of the dead body but she couldn't. IT was still there somewhere.   
  
  
The thing disappeared from her vision but she could still hear its hoarse breathing. The putrid smell of rotten flesh surrounded her; she almost vomited if it wasn't for her courage. She couldn't see it but it could hear, see and smell her.   
  
  
Claire was a 'rat in a cage' as one psychotic individual once said.   
  
  
If she moved it would pounce, if she stayed it was only a matter of time before it pounced. She glanced at her wound and cursed, she needed the G.H.C for the wound before it got infected with whatever the beast had.   
  
  
Whatever manmade virus it had.  
  
  
Something moved swiftly opposite her under a bed towards the shadows on her left. It growled low in its throat, its loud thudding sound of its paws grew as it moved from the shadows and into the light.  
  
  
Cereberus.  
  
  
Its left eye was a mushy mess; the red-clear liquid ran down its face and dripped to the floor. It snarled showing long fangs covered in blood, probably the nurse and the commando's. Its body was practically a skeleton, bony and bloody. Underneath its belly was only a long deep hole from chest to abdomen gushing blood. Its fur was no more; only the muscle and fat lay over the bone as if it was its new fur.  
  
  
It was inside out, literally.   
  
  
It lowed itself and pounced high in the air, Claire froze for mere seconds before aiming at the dog. Its mouth hung open ready to bite into Claire's flesh. The extended fangs glinted under the moonlight as it fell towards her.   
  
  
She pressed the trigger, bright flashing lights jetted from the nozzle. Small golden cylinders fell aimlessly to the floor creating a musical sound. The beast jerked backwards as each bullet entered its face, chest, and legs. Its blood sprayed out onto the air particles producing a beautiful red mist. It fell to the floor with a loud cry. Claire stopped and glared at the limp corpse. Black blood flooded around the dog forming a burgundy puddle.  
  
  
It didn't move nor did it convulse.  
  
  
Claire kept glaring at the dog in a deep trance, it was all happening again. The death would keep on going. If it did then the area would transform into another Raccoon City. If any of the 'experiments' got out then there was no point into stopping the bloodshed. She was already tired from all the gore she had witnessed.  
  
  
There was a point, the point being not to let anyone suffer like the innocents in Raccoon City. She promised herself that after Steve. She had to keep it or what was the point of her life?  
  
  
She climbed off the bed and sat on the floor, it was beginning to get hot. But why? She glanced at her arm staring straight at the answer. She quickly took off her rug sack and rummaged for the G.H.C. Then she gently took off the jacket and broke the seal of a capsule, the green powder fell into the palm of her hand. Stretching out her arm she scattered the powder over her wound.   
  
  
The powder with her flesh bubbled; she tensed up felling the cold burning sensation penetrating the sore tissue. It was as if putting a concoction of lemon, alcohol and salt into a cut, however times that pain by a hundred would equal Claire's.  
  
  
She clenched her teeth grinding the bottom and top together, if she didn't then the entire world would hear her screams let alone her cussing.  
  
  
She badly wanted to dash the powder off her wound, but didn't, the pain was essential if she didn't want to become a zombie. She began breathing in and out, in and out, counting up to and over ten.   
  
  
Anything that would take her mind off the pain!  
She heaved vomiting onto the floor; pieces of the chocolate laid half digested in the whitish mess. She scrambled away wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.  
  
  
Her breathing began to regain normality; the burning cooled away leaving a wound free arm.   
  
  
"Over there I hear something."  
  
  
Claire glared at the entrance to the ward.   
  
  
They were coming!   
  
  
She gathered her stuff and quickly ran to…where? She turned to the far wall and pressed her back into it. She was camouflaged by the shadows, but even a blind man would see her there. She fell backwards and landed on her bum realising that the wall was actually a door. She stood up; she was in the ward's showers. There were about three showers on each side of the wall. It was dark but her eyes adapted well. She scanned each shower, nothing, nada!  
  
  
She looked up and there it was an air vent. The metal covering was big enough for her to get through, but the problem was opening it up. She ran to it and reached up grabbing the end of the cover. She pulled and it came away.  
  
  
"Report Baker!" it was Wesker however there was static within his voice.   
  
  
Claire quickly but as silently as possible climbed into the vent. She reached for the covering keeping her eyes on the door. She pulled the covering up and closed it. She slid down the smooth cool vent and lay there waiting.  
  
  
"Robertson is dead; it seems that something ate him alive. Over," he paused.  
  
  
"It 'seems'?"  
  
  
"Yes sir his neck and abdomen has been ripped apart. Over."  
  
  
"Have you found the intruder?"  
  
  
"No sir we're still checking the vicinity," he gulped knowing that Wesker wouldn't like that.  
  
  
"Check faster private! And report in, in five minutes!"  
  
  
"Yes sir. Over and out." The static ended and the man sighed, he glared at his small group of three, "Well get on with it!"  
  
  
"Over here," said one man, "There's something here and it's not human."  
  
  
Baker ran up to him and glared at the animal on the floor, "What the fuck?!" he muttered.  
  
  
"Look at that, there's gunshot holes in it, could it have been Robertson?"  
  
  
"No way," declared Baker, "Robertson seems to be dead long before this," he pointed to the dog, "was shot. There's someone else here. Stand alert!"  
  
  
The soldier nodded still staring at the zombified dog grasping his assault rifle with all his might. This thing was dead but he didn't seem to trust the carcass.  
  
  
"There appears to be some green powder here."  
  
  
Baker walked to the other soldier and bent down, "Green powder and…vomit?!"  
  
  
"Looks fresh."  
  
  
"Yeah," Baker said, "It does, go check the showers."  
  
  
The man nodded and jogged to the door, he kicked it open checking behind the door if anyone or thing was lurking. He inspected each shower finding nothing. Claire ducked her head under her arms and held her breath. The guy stared up at the air vent; he moved closer to it and fingered the edges.  
  
  
"Taylor? Anything?"  
  
  
"Nah, nothing," he said narrowing his eyes at the vent's cover. He stopped and walked back out into the ward.  
  
  
"Hey Baker! We've found Benson!"  
  
  
He stood up and ran to the waiting room. Benson sat on one of the chairs holding his face. He was dressed in a t-shirt, boxer shorts and grey socks. His silvery dog tags lay around his neck and jingled when he moved.  
  
  
"What the fuck happened to you?!" Baker stepped over the dead commando and walked up to him.  
  
  
"What do you think happened? Someone attacked me!" he said under his hand, blood was dripping down his fingers and arm.  
  
  
"You get a look?" questioned Baker.  
  
  
"No, I went in on a cell and all of a sudden I got smashed in the face, they stole my clothes and I woke up just now," he wiped his face with his t-shirt, blood came away and sunk into the navy material. The wound had stopped bleeding but it still hurt.  
  
  
Baker sighed it was getting to him; it was his last mission before he had some time off. And things weren't look good, at all. All he had to do was survive whatever Umbrella threw at him.   
  
  
If he could.   
  
  
"So it was a patient?"  
  
  
"Yes," he breathed.  
  
  
"They wouldn't be too hard to kill then if they're crazy," he grinned.  
  
  
"Report Baker!" his radio buzzed. He suddenly jumped back realising that his five minutes were up.  
  
  
"Baker here, we've found one of Umbrella's test subjects. However it is dead. It had been shot a number of times. There is evidence suggesting that there is another intruder. They attacked Benson and stole his clothes. Over."  
  
  
"Did he see who it was?"  
  
  
"He believes it was a patient. Escaped from the 'Secure Unit' on the tenth level."  
  
  
"Put emergence power back on and check the databases for a list of patient's name. And run a check on a Chris Redfield."  
  
  
"Yes sir! Over and out."   
  
  
He switched the radio off and sat down next to Benson, "Can some one get him some clothes!"  
  
  
A young cadet ran in the waiting room holding some trousers and boots, he also carried with him a spare assault rifle. Benson took them and got dressed; he swung the rifle round his shoulder and waited for instructions.  
  
  
"Right," Baker said, "Benson and Taylor I want you to go and put emergence power back on," they both stood instantaneously and ran out into the hallway.  
  
  
Baker turned to the rest of his search party. He stood up pushing his sweat drenched hair back, "The rest of you I want to search every nook and cranny of this ward for the intruder. Now!"  
  
  
They scattered holding their weapons tightly. It wasn't because of Claire she was just a human. It was because of the other things out there that weren't normal.  
  
  
Baker walked towards the ward's doors, "Search the air vents too. That lunatic could be using them instead of the stairs!"   
  
  
Claire slid backwards, she would have to use the air vents. It was the safest place considering the commandos and the creatures. But she would have to move quickly, they were coming and she didn't know what else was inside with her. 


	26. Getting In

26  
  
  
Chris parked outside the institute; Leon sat next to him holding a long black sports bag. It contained their weapons including Claire's. There was another one laid on the back seat of the car with C4, specially bought for Umbrella.  
  
  
He opened the glove compartment and pulled out his magnum. He filled each camber with a bullet and sheathed the weapon in his holster around his waist. He opened the door without any word to Leon and got out. He closed his jacket shielding the weapon from any prying eyes and walked to the gates.  
  
  
Leon watched closely, he saw the blatant expression on Chris's face. It meant more things than a bullet in a face, he was angry, but it was more than that. A kind of tiredness and routine were seeping through, it was as if this was just the same old thing and it pissed him off that it was him and his sister always in the middle.   
  
  
"Leon," he said, voice fill with rage, "The C4 please."  
  
  
He did as he was told, mainly because he didn't want to be the person with the bullet in the face. He opened the door and grabbed the other bag from the back. He then closed the door and walked to Chris, "Here."  
  
  
Chris took it wrapped the straps over his shoulders, "Ready?"  
  
  
Leon checked his gun and shoved it back into his thigh holster, "More than I'll ever be."  
  
  
"Good because we might not make it tonight. And I'm afraid Claire might be de-"  
  
  
"She's alive, that's one thing about Claire. She's a tough bitch."  
  
  
Chris laughed slightly, "That's my sister you're talking about."  
  
  
"I know this," he smiled, "But it's the truth."  
  
  
Chris walked forward pushing the gate, it creaked creating such a sound in the complete silence that it felt everyone around the world could hear them. He pushed it further and realised that it wouldn't open. He glared at the wrapped around metal chain. He opened Leon's sports bag and pulled out a long greyish object. He cut the metal and pulled out another one with padlock. He walked forward and dragged Leon along too.  
  
  
"What's that for?" asked Leon.  
  
  
"Well we don't want this place turning into Raccoon City, do we?"  
  
  
Leon frowned, "Well duh!"  
  
  
Chris padlocked the chain together around the gates bars and then began to run towards the front entrance of the car park. They stopped every so often and checked the area. Nothing. They crossed each car glaring inside for any unsuspecting individuals.  
  
  
"H.C.F?" whispered Leon.  
  
  
Chris stayed quiet, if the H.C.F were here that would mean Wesker was too. He breathed in; it wouldn't be complete without him.  
  
  
"Leon stay here. I'm taking point." He simply saluted and crouched by a car aiming towards the glass entrance doors.   
  
  
Chris walked forward and placed his back to the wall, it was cold and the feeling sank into his skin. It was a nice thing to have, he just felt too hot. His nerves were getting to him. What was new?  
  
  
It was too dark; he couldn't possibly see any one inside. He huffed and shoved the doors open. He froze aiming at everything. Nothing moved so he signalled to Leon to move his ass closer.  
  
  
A woman lay over her desk. Blood covered the grey desk, what papers she had were soaked through, it stuck to the desk like another layer, "Whoa!"  
  
  
Chris glanced in Leon's direction, "If it's not Umbrella then it's the H.C.F."  
  
  
"Claire was right. Oh my God! All these people!" his eyes didn't seem to move away from the dead woman. He was lucky since her face was down on the desk and her hair was over her head covering some of the blood. He heaved moving to the far wall. He took in deep breaths whilst holding on for support.  
  
  
"Leon?" Chris said, "You know what you were going to expect. You saw this in Raccoon City."  
  
  
Leon turned to him and glared, "Well excuse me for not being used to this shit!"  
  
  
Chris moved towards him, "I didn't mean for it to come out like that, it's just, well, whenever we're dealing with Umbrella people die."  
  
  
Leon stayed silent. Chris was trying but failing at helping him get through a fraction of the gore.  
  
  
"I understand if you can't come."  
  
  
"What?!" he gasped, "Just because I get concerned doesn't mean I can't do this!"   
  
  
"Then fine we're agreed we're through this to the end?"  
  
  
"Not even wild horses could drag me away from here!"  
  
  
Chris smiled, "Well let's get on with it!"  
  
  
He held onto his gun tightly and followed Chris into the unknown. They walked passed the elevator, the power was out and so was it. They continued until they reached the stairs. Chris glared up and listened for anything. He only could hear the rhythm of his heart throbbing viciously within his chest. He stepped onto the wooden stairs and froze, it creaked loudly under him he cursed and carried on. Leon stood behind him and moved when Chris moved. He licked his lips anxiously to reach the first level. He wiped his brow and grasped his gun tightly.   
  
  
Chris walked up until he met a dead body; he stopped and glanced at Leon. The body lay over a few steps, it obstructed their path, but they could easily enough step over the corpse. Leon moved first only to be stopped by Chris; he grabbed his shirt and shook his head.  
  
  
"You see the ankles?" he whispered.  
  
  
Leon narrowed his eyes and glanced at the dead body's ankles. The body had no shoes of any kind on, its pasty skin was grey, but its ankles were very strange. Coagulated blood lay on the skin, the back of the ankles were ripped away. There was no other blood or any part of the ankle lying around; the rest of the body looked unharmed. However that was the back, they didn't know if the corpse's front was as intact as the back.  
  
  
"What you think did that?" nudged Leon.  
  
  
"I don't think it was human, that's for sure."  
  
  
Nor did Leon; it was Raccoon City all over again. More un-dead corpses to deal with.  
  
  
He walked forward stepping over the body carefully not to hit it with his foot. Chris watched and as Leon passed the worst he reduced the tension and alertness within his body. Now it was his turn.  
  
  
Leon stood behind the body; he replaced his gun back into his holster and waited for Chris.  
  
  
Chris walked closer he grabbed the banister and pulled himself over the body. He nearly slipped, but lucky his hand held on tightly to the wooden frame.   
  
  
"Leon!" called Chris.   
  
  
He pulled away from the zombie as it grasped at his foot, he struggled but it wasn't working. Its eyes were black and held no life within them, its mouth opened wide ready to bite into Chris. He panicked, stamping his foot into the head of the zombie. It groaned but never let up.  
  
  
Leon pulled his gun out and aimed, he pulled the trigger releasing a number of bullets into the carcass. The hold of the zombie faulted and it slid to the step groaning. Chris moved away pulling out his magnum. He aimed and shot it right in between the eyes. The entire head blew into huge lumps of bloody flesh.   
  
  
It flew into the wall creating a red mess on the white painted bricks, gooey bits of brain landed on top of them. Chris didn't really care. His heart couldn't handle the amount of surprises every second.   
  
  
He sat on the steps and gazed at the mess. Blood trickled down the wall into the puddle below it. It made the most disgusting squidgy sounds. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He sucked in the smoke and blew, "I hate zombies," he muttered.  
  
  
Leon stood frozen, he still held his gun aiming at the, finally, lifeless zombie. Tiny bits of brain laid on his shirt, it soaked into the material staining the clean shirt. He glanced down at it and sighed fed up with everything. He moved down to Chris and sat down next to him.   
  
  
Chris passed his cigarette towards Leon, he took it puffing in the smoke and coughed, "Never could get used to this," he said handing back the butt.  
  
  
Chris glanced at the body and inhaled, "It's not something you should." 


	27. Bandersnatch

27  
  
  
Crawling through the air vent seemed to take forever. It was too narrow and the heat wasn't helping either. Her rifle kept falling to her side and she would have to stop from time to time to throw it back over her shoulder. It was too dark and she wasn't sure where the hell she was going. Since she felt as if the vent was taking her down she kept on, as long as she was heading for the ground floor she didn't give a damn.  
  
  
Suddenly she stopped; up ahead of her was light. Her heart stopped for a fraction of a second. She moved on slowly and peered down the gate.  
  
  
"There some bloody loony loose in the hospital."  
  
  
"That's the least of our problems, I hear that they found a zombie dog infected with one of Umbrella's viruses," the guy appeared on edge, he puffed the cigarette as if it was his last life line. He calmed quite a bit down once the smoke blew away.  
  
  
The other guy stare at him, "You need to calm down. I mean as long as we have the artillery," he grinned patting his rifle, "they are no match for us!"  
  
  
He threw his cigarette butt to the floor and laughed, "You didn't go to Rockford Island!"  
  
  
"That's bullshit! You and everyone else didn't set foot there!"  
  
  
"We didn't have too, but what was seen was some nasty shit!" he glared at his partner angrily. Claire couldn't blame him, his friend was too overconfident, and the asshole was going to die with that attitude.  
  
  
He shook his head, "Fine! I'm going to check the area. I'll be back. Don't shit your pants while I'm gone."  
  
  
"Fuck you!"  
  
  
The overconfident asshole left his friend and walked up towards a door. He opened it and closed it behind.  
  
  
Claire crawled further on…  
  
  
The guy unexpectedly began screaming from inside the room. It sharply broke off and silence settled within the corridor below. Claire crouched quietly; her heart seemed to take over the silence surrounding them. It was hard to listen out for anything unnatural with the loud thudding in her ears.   
  
  
His partner glanced at the door, "I know what your doing!! It's not funny!"  
  
  
He didn't reply back, the tension in the guy grew. He wasn't sure if his friend was playing around or not.  
  
  
"Stop fucking around!" he shouted; he wasn't going to go in and check. He was so sure that the guy was messing with him.  
  
  
A dark figure bumped into the glass window and slid down leaving dark patches on the glass. It didn't look good and he wasn't playing around. Claire was about to tell him to run but she held back, she badly wanted to call out to him and warn him, but she didn't. Even if he ran he would die, but he would have a chance of surviving.  
  
  
The guy walked forward, he held his handgun tightly. It wasn't enough! He needed more than just a handgun. He kept walking closer and closer towards the door. His hand hesitated on the handle; he gulped a few times and twisted the knob round.  
  
  
His friend stood by the door; his eyes were wide and black. He held onto his throat, blood was seeping through and over his hands. He walked forward passing his partner.   
  
  
"I…don't…think…you…should…" he gulped; only releasing more blood, "…go…in…there…" he whimpered falling to the floor.  
  
  
The other man turned and faced the room; he pulled the trigger releasing bullet after bullet until there was nothing left. He backed up trying as quickly as he could to shove in another clip. Tears ran down his face and he began sobbing dropping his gun in panic.  
  
  
A huge yellowish hand grabbed his head lifting him up. The hand tensed around his head and squeezed, his screams were cut short as his head was crushed into a heap of bloody sludge. The thing moved forward from behind the door, in the dim light she could see what it was.   
  
  
A Bandersnatch.  
  
  
It moved further out, its blood-drenched arm dragged behind creating a blood trail on the floor. It stopped and looked up at the vent, straight at Claire. Its small whitish eyes seemed to burn into the metal and Claire suddenly felt naked. It reached out its bloody arm and stretched it towards the vent. Claire screamed as the hand squeezed into the metal, she shuffled along the vent away from the monster as it tore the metal open as if it was paper. Its head poked through and stared at her; she backed up and fell down the vent.   
  
  
It was a long drop, but it was better than facing the Bandersnatch. She hit another gate leading to another room. Her back ached, she turned just a little, which was a mistake the gate couldn't take her weight and it gave way. She fell again, but onto a wooden floor. She gasped turning round. Her back wasn't broken or anything like that, but it wasn't healthy either.   
  
  
There goes another G.H.C.   
  
  
She sat up and faced…  
  
  
…Mike.   
  
  
He aimed a pump action at her, finger hovering over the trigger. His arms were shaking and sweat soaked into his face and clothes.   
  
  
She held up her hands.   
  
  
"What are you doing here?" He let down his guard, placing the shotgun on the table.  
  
  
"How does anyone get in here other than visiting? I was admitted."  
  
  
He gave a nervous smile trying to release the tension within his body, "I only came back to get some files and then all the shooting broke out," he gazed at the pump action feeling a little less on a verge of a total breakdown, "I locked the door and pushed the bookcase against it. I heard all the screams outside and couldn't do anything," he looked up; his eyes were red, bloodshot. He'd been crying, even the strongest of men has their limits and faced with danger their macho bravado seems to disappear and replaced by a vulnerable little boy, "I hid with the gun in the corner praying for the screaming to stop."  
  
  
Claire walked closer towards the desk, her face held a soft expression, she could understand his anxiousness and eagerness to get faraway from this damned place, "Mike," she said softly, he looked up wiping his eyes as quickly as possible, he was ashamed even though their was no need, "Do you know what happened?"  
  
  
He shook his head sniffing at the same time, "Only what I told you. The lights went out not long ago."  
  
  
Claire sighed and sat on the edge of the desk, "You have any other weapons?" she said fingering the pump action. He opened a drawer and pulled out one box of 12 gauge shells and nothing more.  
  
  
He faced her, "That's it."  
  
  
"Well shit!" she huffed.  
  
  
Mike smiled; he was beginning to feel much better now that he wasn't alone, "You?"  
  
  
She held up the rifle, "This, a handgun with one clip and a combat knife." He raised his eyebrows taking it in quite well.  
  
  
"That isn't much against whatever the hell is out here," he muttered, Claire stood up straight and faced him.  
  
  
"Do you know what you'll expect?"  
  
  
He narrowed his eyes a little, "It didn't sound human that's for sure."  
  
  
"No they ain't-"  
  
  
"'They'?!" he exclaimed, "There's more than one?!"  
  
  
Claire simply nodded, "And just to warn you it's not a pretty sight out here."  
  
  
He fell back into his chair and twirled round placing its back to her. He huffed and stayed silent for a while, "Are we going to make it alive?" his voice was cool and had no hint of uneasiness within it.  
  
  
Claire really didn't want to lie to him, the truth was better; anyway lying to him wasn't going to help, "The truth?"  
  
  
He turned and stared at her, "The truth."  
  
  
"It's a fifty, fifty chance. I can't honestly tell you that we are going to make it. We just have to do our best to survive out there."  
  
  
He shut his eyes hoping that this was all a dream. He opened them again and saw Claire staring back at him, "I hope you know how to use that," she said pointing to the shotgun.  
  
  
He grinned, an expression that showed his normal self, "I wouldn't have it if I didn't."  
  
  
"Well I hope your ready then."  
  
  
He didn't answer her; instead he just dashed the box of shotgun shells within his bag and swung it over his shoulder. Grabbing the pump action he causally walked to the blocked door, "Care to help me Miss Redfield?"  
  
  
She laughed, "As long as I don't have to go to any more sessions."  
  
  
He smiled again, and the tiredness and stress washed away leaving a really good-looking guy. Short black hair, which was damp with sweat, light brown skin, very exotic and greyish/silver eyes. His smile only enhanced his amazing features. She wondered why she never seen him like this before. It couldn't be the situation they were in. No, she was seeing him as a person rather than her psychiatrist.  
  
  
She walked to him and grabbed one side of the bookcase, "On three," he said, "One, two, three!" They quickly lifted it up and moved it a few metres away. Claire quickly walked to the window, but the problem was that she couldn't see outside into the waiting room. She was really beginning to hate frosted glass.  
  
  
Her hand automatically held the rifle close to her chest, she grabbed the knob with her other hand. Breathing in she flung the door wide and aimed left and then quickly right. Nothing.  
  
  
Mike passed her clutching the pump action as if the very air was going to snatch it from him. He scanned the room properly and it strangely seemed that this was normal to him. Claire stared in his direction watching his moves. He had to be on edge or a real action/spy movie freak. Whatever it was he was doing a great job.  
  
  
He stopped his cat like movements and stood straight holding the shotgun up. He smiled, "Coast's clear."  
  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
  
He turned round to head out into the corridor when something flung through the darkness grabbing him. He screamed as a huge yellow hand wrapped round his head holding him high. The pump action slipped from his hands and dropped to the floor with a loud thud. Claire couldn't make her body response; she stood here staring as the guy was getting his head squished by one of Umbrella's test subjects.   
  
  
"Claire!" cried Mike breaking her out of her trance. She quickly aimed at the Bandersnatch and pulled the trigger…  
  
  
Nothing happened. She glared at the rifle in disbelief and there it was the shotgun lying soundlessly on the floor. She lunged to the ground grasping a hold of the black metal. Mike was quiet, very bad sign!  
  
  
She aimed and shot once, twice…three times in the monster's face. The beast jerked back groaning in agony. It dropped Mike to the floor and fell back gushing blood all over the lino. Claire released the gun running towards the limp Mike.  
  
  
She pulled him over hoping for him to live, "Mike?" she said over and over again, "Wake up damnit!"  
  
  
He smiled opening his eyes, "Nice to know someone cares," he whispered.  
  
  
She frowned, "That's not funny! Get up!"  
  
  
"Yes ma'am," he said sitting, "Shit! What the hell is that?" He glared at the huge yellow mass now flooded within its own blood.  
  
  
"A Bandersnatch," she simply replied gathering the weapons.  
  
  
"Oh."  
  
  
She turned back handing over his pump action. She left the rifle on the floor, no ammo no use to them. She moved to him holding out her hand and helped him up. Blood trickled down his forehead.  
  
  
"We best see to that," she said staring at the deep cut were the fingernail of the Bandersnatch left behind.  
  
  
She dragged him to a seat and took out one G.H.C, "What's that?" he asked.  
  
  
"Something to help the wound," she broke the seal, "This is going to hurt," and scattered the powder over the cut.  
  
  
He grasped onto her hand squeezing as the pain thrust through him stimulating every single nerve within his body. He cursed numerous times as the G.H.C did its job.  
  
  
She looked at him and smiled, "Any better?"  
  
  
"Is that supposed to be funny? It fucking hurts!"  
  
  
She laughed at his bewildered expression and placed the pump action onto his lap, "It beats having no head."  
  
  
She had a very good point. He patted the sore area gently and followed after Claire into the dark corridor with only a shotgun, a pathetic handgun with one clip and a combat knife. 


	28. The Girl With The Golden Hair

28  
  
  
Benson and Taylor only had to go down to the second floor, there would be the generator. This was purely an in/out operation, well it wasn't really an operation but with creatures running about the place bent on death they made it one.  
  
  
Benson took the front while Taylor took the back. They both had H.C.F standard issue assault rifles, state-of-the-art, which really kicked ass. Benson attached a torch to the top of his gun and carefully scanned every area there was, after his fiasco with one of the local residents he wasn't going to take any chances, even if it was going to take them forever just to put the power back on then so be it. He was proud with his work and just minutes before he was ashamed and disgusted with himself. Top of the class and expert with weapons he still couldn't believe he let a crazy get the better of him.   
  
  
His head was still aching but it didn't matter, it only made him know that he was alive and kicking, "Which door?"  
  
  
Taylor glanced back and pulled out a small map, there were three doors, straight-ahead, one to the right and one to the left. And none of them had any indication to where they led, "Left one," he replied taking back his concentration.  
  
  
Benson twisted the knob and kicked the door open; it swung round knocking into the wall. It halted. Benson stood still staring into the dark, "Gimme the night vision."  
  
  
Taylor lifted the black goggles from his head and passed them to him, "Hurry up!"  
  
  
Benson smirked, "Scared?"  
  
  
"No, just don't want to get my ass whooped by a crazy."  
  
  
He snatched the goggles from him and narrowed his eyes; it was going haunt him for the rest of his life. And the guys back at base would have a field day. He put the goggles over his eyes and scanned the room, it was pure black inside and there appeared to be no windows of any kind. He sighed; with only a pair of night vision goggles it was going to be hard.   
  
  
"Did you hear that?" Taylor whispered.  
  
  
"No, it's just you pissing yourself," he laughed.  
  
  
"I mean it Benson! Something is in there."  
  
  
He puffed, "I scanned the area!"  
  
  
"Look again damnit!"  
  
  
"Fine!" he looked through the goggles adjusting the focus. He explored every area he could. It was a quite a big room. The generator took most of the space with the three massive turbines, only one part was obstructing by his vision, it was a path leading to the control panel for the generator. He inspected slowly from left to right.  
  
  
"Hello," he smiled taking off the goggles and walked inside flashing his torch into a corner, "There's your problem," he said pointing to a man crouched over a body.  
  
  
It turned round and groaned, "Fuck!" yelled Taylor, "What the fuck?!"  
  
  
Benson moved closer gazing at the un-dead man; pieces of flesh and blood lay on his lips as he munched on some organ. It shifted slightly getting up to move to Benson. He kicked it down with his foot, "Remarkable."  
  
  
The zombie fell back groaning, trying to crawl to him, his mouth open and ready to eat flesh. Benson moved closer poking the thing with his gun, "Nasty shit huh?" he said glancing to Taylor.  
  
  
"Stop playing around and just shoot it!" He walked down the path to the control panel. He grabbed his flashlight from his pocket and aimed it at some writing:   
  
'Generator power instructions – Turning back power must be done in accordance, if it is not the generator will not operate - 1). Turn wheel right until it locks in. 2). Pull levers one, three and four. 3). Now push in switches 1-10. After two minutes pull lever two.'  
  
  
He did what it said, mainly because he really wanted to get out and as far from there as humanly possible. He glanced back at Benson and shook his head, "Idiot." He grabbed the wheel and twisted it, the rusted metal creaked loudly. It sounded like a nail scratching a chalkboard. It irritated him, but it had to be done. It locked in making a metallic click. He glanced quickly at the instructions pulling levers one, three and four. He puffed taking off his jacket but still keeping the rifle around his neck. His eyes were beginning to adapt to the darkness slightly. He gazed at his torch and smiled happily to have some light with him no matter how dim it was.   
  
  
"Switches 1 to 10," he muttered to himself practically fed up that he did all the work while Benson did shit. He pushed in the switches glancing at his incompetent partner, "Haven't you seen a zombie before?"   
  
  
Benson placed the nozzle of his rifle over the heart of his victim, he ignored Taylor's remark knowing exactly what he was trying to achieve. He gazed at the rotting corpse pushing in the nozzle harder into the grey flesh, "Nasty," and he pulled the trigger. The zombie jerked back as each bullet passed through it. It sagged to the floor surrounded by its blood. Benson bent down and poked the poor creature again, "Nasty," he shuddered.   
  
  
He stood up glaring at the thing fascinated at what he was seeing, "I wonder what Umbrella has cooked up?"   
  
  
"More than you know."  
  
  
He turned suddenly feeling whatever was said close, "What you say?" he yelled towards Taylor.   
  
  
He looked back and frowned, "You're smoking that shit again aren't you?"  
  
  
Benson narrowed his eyes, "No! Did you say something?"  
  
  
Taylor shook his head turning to the control panel.  
  
  
Benson didn't like this; he swore he heard someone reply to his outspoken thought. He shuddered hoping it was all in his head. But what if it wasn't? No matter he had his rifle.  
  
  
He turned to the right, towards the door; a sound was emanating from it a low but very heavy thudding sound. He straightened his self and walked quietly towards it. It was getting louder; it was footsteps, heavy ones. He clutched the rifle and breathed in silently. He muttered a quiet pray to himself while kissing his crucifix and walked to the glass peering out to the corridor. He put the night goggles on scanning for anything. He exhaled comforted by the deserted hallway.   
  
  
"Taylor man, are you finished yet?"  
  
  
He leant on the wall waiting for a reply, "Taylor," he huffed, "Cat caught your tongue? It'll be a first," he laughed.  
  
  
The silent just kept on ringing; he had enough, "Taylor damnit!" he walked forward swinging his rifle round his back. He turned to the path leading to the generator's control panel following Taylor's dim but bright enough light.  
  
  
"Taylor what is your prob-" he stopped in his tracks gazing at a torn body surrounded by blood. He eyes open showing the utter pain and grief. He grasped his rifle searching the area. He bent down to Taylor's side and checked his pulse. Nothing. He cursed stepping away from the body. Whatever was in there it could see, even in the dark.   
  
  
He pulled out his radio from his jacket pocket, "Taylor is down! I repeat man down in the generator room! Need assistance immediately!" he paused waiting for a reply.  
  
  
"Baker here what the hell is going on?"   
  
  
"I don't know! Something has killed Taylor…" he cut off watching something move from the shadows, it's loud thudding footsteps drowning every other sound within the room even the radio.  
  
  
It emerged from the darkness and into the torches dimness. Its long green reptilian arms hung by its side with long strong black claws. It stopped staring straight at him and crouched. Its yellow eyes piercing into him, it snarled revealing long pointed teeth smeared with blood.  
  
  
Taylor's blood.   
  
  
Benson froze traumatised by the ugly, but very dangerous beast. He grasped the rifle aiming at it. He was shaking, sweat dripped down his forehead tickling his skin as it ran towards his neck. He backed up until his damp back was touching the cold levers.  
  
  
He gulped and the beast was already in the air falling down onto him. He pulled the trigger missing the animal by inches. The huge claw flew into his chest ripping the skin, muscle, fat and even the bone away. The animal sank its teeth into his chest grinding on his hot flesh and blood. He screamed as the pain ruptured through his entire body, but his screams were drowned out by the inhuman howls of the beast chewing on his heart.  
  
  
"Benson!?" called the static voice.  
  
  
"Benson is," said the voice while staring at his body, "currently inoperable."  
  
  
"Who is this?!"  
  
  
The young girl with the golden hair handed the mechanical object to the Hunter. It took it crushing the small black box into nothing more but pieces. She laughed patting her trusted pet. It rubbed its face on her shoulder as if it was a cat. She glared down at her clothes; smears of blood ran deep within the material. The Hunter must have sensed the change in her mood because it stepped back afraid. She touched the blood and gazed at her finger, "Not to worry, by the end of this night we will all be covered in their blood," she laughed licking her finger smudging her lips in red, "We will drink from their bodies as they scream for mercy. And dance on their graves as we celebrate their death." Her laugher rang throughout the room echoing from one end to the other. She skipped towards the control panel like it was all a game.  
  
  
"And God said 'Let there be light'" she pulled lever number two up, bright beams of light flashed on. She smiled up gazing at the brilliance of the whiteness.   
  
  
"It's time to have some fun," she said turning to the creature, "And there's plenty of fresh bodies waiting for you," she smirked stroking its head, she bent down just a bit whispering close to its ear, "I want to hear them scream as you rip their hearts from their chest."  
  
  
It moved back snarling and began running towards the door looking for more bodies to eat.   
  
  
More blood to spill.  
  
  
The young girl pouted, a little sad that everyone in the room was dead; she couldn't have any more fun until she caught Claire. Well there were the other commandos and not forgetting the ever so resilient and challenging Wesker. She giggled quietly to herself pleased with her work and for the future activities of the night. She skipped along to the exit singing her most precious lullaby. Her father's lullaby:  
  
  
"…There was a friendly but naïve King who met a very nasty Queen. The King was loved but the Queen was feared. Til one day strolling in his court an arrow pierced the kind King's heart, he lost his life and, his lady love…" 


	29. The Fly's Dilemma

29  
  
  
"Did you hear that?"  
  
  
Leon stopped for a moment and reached out into the darkness with his ears, "Err nope."  
  
  
Chris leant on the banister and looked up through the other levels, it was silent and the singing that he thought he heard vanished. He stepped back with a very confused expression and scratched his head, "Are you sure?"  
  
  
"Yes!" Leon huffed, "Anyway what did you hear?"  
  
  
"Singing and it's so familiar," he tapped the wooden frame, "I know I heard it before!"  
  
  
Leon stood still not knowing what to say, he began walking up to a door on the first floor. Chris gave up on the ambient song and continued behind Leon to the next level. A burst of light shone in their eyes; at first they thought it was someone with a flashlight. They both pulled out their guns instantaneously. Leon stumbled back almost falling down the stairs; he stopped himself before it could happen.  
  
  
"You alright?" asked Chris. He nodded his head still a little surprised by the flash of light in his eyes.   
  
  
He re-sheathed his gun, "Well that was unexpected."  
  
  
"A lot of things are unexpected here." Chris moved to a window on the stairway and glanced out, "I wonder why the power came on?"  
  
  
"Lock down will commence in T-minus ten seconds," droned the mechanical female's voice. Both looked at each other shocked, they couldn't leave and they certainly didn't want to stay.  
  
  
"…Nine…Eight…Seven…Six…"  
  
  
They shrugged at each other and carried on.  
  
  
"…Five…Four…Three…Two…One…"  
  
  
Suddenly huge metal shutters slid in front of the windows blocking any means of escape. Leon walked to one and knocked on it, its low heavy sound indicated its thickness. He whistled, "That's about two maybe even three inches thick."   
  
  
Chris frowned, "Great that's all we need." He walked up in front towards the door, he grabbed the bronze doorknob and twisted; he glanced back at Leon who was ready with his Desert Eagle. He nodded pushing the door in and aiming as well with his Magnum.   
  
  
The zone was clear.  
  
  
The inside looked like an examination room, Leon shuddered there was one thing he hated the most, other than Umbrella, was hospitals. That disinfectant smell was so apparent. The examination table with screen, the doctor's desk filled to the brim with papers and the shiny lino floor, it all reminded him too much of a hospital. Chris walked to the desk and shifted through some of the files. Useless crap, nothing of any interest.   
  
  
Leon moved to the screen, he pointed his gun up leaning close into it; he breathed in slightly and hurled the cloth away.  
  
  
"Hey Chris come look at this."   
  
  
Chris came running eager to see what the fuss was about. Leon held up to the light blueprints of some sort. There were loads scattered over the table, "Nice of them to leave some clues," he smiled.  
  
  
"It's a little too nice of them," Chris walked over to the examination table and picked up a blueprint, "Memorial Mental Institute Facility," he read, "U1."  
  
  
He placed it back and viewed each plan carefully. There were five blueprints in total all representing a level, "Five underground levels," he said, "All belonging to Umbrella."  
  
  
Leon bent down closer looking at each paper, "With the power on we can go to them."  
  
  
Chris shook his head, "Not without Claire."  
  
  
"Of course," he said, "There must be something very important down here with all the trouble H.C.F brought. It looked like they were planning a fucking war; I wonder what they're after?"   
  
  
"Me too. Although whatever it is it's not going to be good."  
  
  
Leon agreed, just to get in they killed everyone without a moment's thought, so whatever they were after it was big and very important to them. He collected the underground blueprints and shoved them in his bag. He checked the other papers just to make sure if there was anything else of importance. There wasn't very much only a sheet indicting the radio frequency the commando's should communicate with and a letter carrying the name of a Captain Albert Wesker, informing him that this was H.C.F's last attempt in obtaining Umbrella's 'project'. It had a very hefty warning to Wesker pointing out the disadvantages to him failing this mission. It was enough to make Leon shudder.  
  
  
He handed it over to Chris who only burst out laughing, "Just desserts," he commented tossing the scrape of paper back on the table. Then he noticed a few walkie-talkies, he picked one up and threw it to Leon. He caught it and tuned it in accordance with the frequency. He placed it in the middle of the table and listened. Strange but there was no sound, only static.   
  
  
He glanced at Chris who only shrugged, "Maybe they went into radio silence for a while."  
  
  
"Maybe," Chris said, "Anyway these delightful walkie-talkies are a great asset," he picked one for himself and tuned it into another frequency also telling Leon to do the same, "Right whatever you do keep it with you at all times."  
  
  
Leon saluted already knowing that he and Chris would have to spilt and go in it alone, "Level two or this one?"  
  
  
He badly wanted level two, that song and that voice was still playing over and over in his mind. It reminded him so much of Alexia Ashford, he needed to be sure if Umbrella brought her back from the dead or if she never really died in the first place, "Two."  
  
  
Leon walked to the door and opened it up, his gun in hand he moved out scanning the stairs for any unwelcome visitors, "Meet you on level two in ten minutes, if you're no there then I'm moving up to three ok?"  
  
  
Chris nodded, "Here," he pulled out a XM1014 shotgun and a few packs of 12 gauge shells from his backpack, "Find her Leon."  
  
  
He took the weapon and smiled, "It's her who always finds me."  
  
  
Chris smiled, "See you in ten then."  
  
  
"I wouldn't miss it for the world."   
  
  
Chris moved up the stairs and disappeared. Leon on the other hand switched guns. He loaded the shotgun, took a deep breath and walked down the corridor on the first floor. He gazed at each door; there were four in total with no glass windows. Damnit! It would take longer to search and he really wanted to do this quickly.  
  
  
He opened door number one very slowly, there was a strange sound coming from inside. He took another breath and shoved open the door fully. There were six zombies in total all wearing lab coats and nurse's uniforms, three were on the floor munching on a dead body and the other three were just standing about. They groaned turning to him. Their blackened eyes gave all their attention to him and him alone.   
  
  
Leon shut the door and sighed. He glanced at the stairs and then back at the door, was there a need to get in there?   
  
  
No. He had a long enough look to see if Claire was inside. She wasn't, so he opted for moving on. The door knocked violently, he cursed, the zombies were hungry and he was on the menu.  
  
  
He moved away and went to door number two, it sounded quiet however the next-door neighbours weren't so quiet and he couldn't really hear. He turned the knob, but it didn't move. He kicked it and kicked it only making a small hole at the bottom. He was about to move on went he heard moving sounds inside. Fast and frightened sounds.  
  
  
"Hello?"  
  
  
Silence.  
  
  
"Hello? Is there anyone who is not of the un-dead or commando kind in there?" he paused, "If you're wondering I'm not a commando."  
  
  
The door unlocked suddenly. He pushed it open, the lights were off and it was too quiet in there, "Hello?" he called again. He moved in just a little…  
  
  
He fell to the floor dazed, "What the fuck!" He turned over gazing up at a young woman dressed in a white nurse's uniform.   
  
  
She held a piece of wood in her hands, "Don't move or I'll hit you again!" her voice was filled with fear and she looked it. She knelt down grasping his shotgun and Desert Eagle. She shoved the gun in her pocket and threw the shotgun in the room, "Who are you?"  
  
  
"What are you on lady?"  
  
  
"Don't be a smartass! Answer the fucking question!" she almost screamed.  
  
  
"I'm not a commando!!"  
  
  
"Why all the weapons huh?"  
  
  
"I'm a cop."  
  
  
"If you're really a cop show me some I.D!" She held the wood high; he knew if he could distract her then he could get to the wood. And thing was he didn't have his I.D, what was the point of carrying something when the place he used it in was now a crater?   
  
  
He reached into his pocket, just to make it look like he was getting his 'I.D'. She watched him but not closely. She was a frightened woman who didn't know how this went. He unexpectedly grabbed her arm yanking the wood out of her hand; she fell back to the floor. She had only a spilt second to retaliate, she reached for the gun only to find that the strange man was pinning her to the floor, "Get off me!"  
  
  
"Calm down!" he said. She struggled under his grip trying desperately to be freed, "Stop struggling."  
  
  
She did, she turned her face away from his, "Get it over with," she sobbed.  
  
  
Leon sighed; she was really scared and would do anything for her life. He felt so sorry for her; she was caught up in a huge mess just because of Umbrella. He released his hold and sat up, "I'm not like that," he said in defence.  
  
  
She wiped her face and scrambled away from him, "Who are you really?"  
  
  
That was a tough one; he really didn't want to go through the whole Raccoon City palaver. So he just told her the basics that he was searching for someone who got trapped in there and that the place was own by a corporation that likes to cause trouble that is why he has the weapons.   
  
  
She started laughing, Leon frowned, "Well you'll see soon enough."  
  
  
"I'm sorry…err…"  
  
  
"Leon," he said completing her sentence.   
  
  
She smiled, "Nice to meet you Leon. I'm Miriam," she held out her hand and he took it shaking hers gently.  
  
  
"I'm not sure if it's nice to meet you. You hit hard."  
  
  
She giggled moving closer to him, "I'm sorry about that Leon, but what with everything happening I just thought you were one of the bad guys," she touched his head rubbing the sore area gently. Her long black hair tickled his face; it was so black and so soft like feathers. Her skin was olive, very European. Her eyes were beautifully green, just like emerald. For someone who had been crying and stressed for God knows how long she looked lovely. She wore small round glasses and they made her look cuter than she already was.   
  
  
She moved away pushing her hair back and adjusted her spectacles, "Ok?"  
  
  
Leon rubbed his head, smiling, "Just about."  
  
  
Miriam stood up holding her hand out, "I hate being out in the corridor," she glanced in front and behind, the paranoia was beginning, "You can hear the most creepiness sounds. But the thing is they aren't screams, they're more like howls of some sort. We best get inside."   
  
  
Leon reached up grabbing a hold of her sensing the fear and the deep sadness. Whatever she heard it was going to haunt her for a very long time. She dragged him up and ushered him inside closing the door.  
  
  
She flicked the light switch and smiled, "Welcome to my parlour said the spider to the fly." 


	30. Anger Management

30  
  
  
Wesker sat in front of the computer monitor. The electricity came on not long ago as well as Umbrella's 'lock down' safety mechanism; he wasn't surprised it had to be standard just in case something like this happened. It was only another problem to sort out amongst the rest.   
  
  
He pulled up the institute's database and searched for any clues.   
  
  
There wasn't anything out of the ordinary other than it was the last stronghold for Umbrella. Each of their international bases where destroyed and scoured thoroughly through. He knew this because he was in head of each party. But the T-Veronica virus wasn't to be seen. After Rockford and the Antarctic and not forgetting his clash with Alexia Ashford, there had been no sign of the virus for months. Even undercover H.C.F agents didn't know about this facility, until two weeks ago. He could remember that grand encoded e-mail popping up on his laptop. It was a Godsend, he couldn't believe when the message said that there was one more Umbrella facility that had a sample of the T-Veronica virus.  
  
  
He was glad for two reasons. One, he wouldn't get his ass kicked by H.C.F board of directors; even with his new 'abilities' he still could die. But he was a little harder than some to kill. And two, well once he had the T-Veronica virus it was time for Wesker to become freelance. He hated H.C.F and Umbrella. They had so much and yet they wasted it all.  
  
  
He threw his legs up and placed them on the table. Yep, Wesker was going to be the one kicking ass once he gained the virus and not waste his greatness being second in command to a bunch of fools with no ambition whatsoever.   
  
  
He took off his shades and placed them nicely by the keyboard, he sighed returning back to reality again. He used the mouse and clicked on patient search. Then moving the keyboard closer to him he typed in 'C. Redfield'. He pressed enter and waited as the program ran through each name. He almost wished to see Chris's name pop up. He was another chore on his long list to do. Just to kill Chris slowly with nothing more than his combat knife and bare hands. To silt open his flesh while he was awake draining his blood to nothing. Then taking out his heart and watch him die as he stares at his heart in agony. He grinned lighting up his orange-yellow eyes. Oh yes, that would be some ride. He had it all prepared; he even ordered custom-made surgical knives to do the job. Each knife engraved with his initials in them with a little quote saying 'Die Chris Die'. Maybe a little over the top but he was only going to have the one time to kill Chris. That was also why he bought a digital camcorder with stand.   
  
  
He sighed again and laughed, maybe a bit morbid but what the hell. He glanced at the screen seeing a 'C. Redfield' he laughed happy to have one of his dreams come true. He clicked on the name and up came a file:  
  
'Name: Redfield, Claire  
Age: 19  
Admitted: September 23rd 19:53  
Located: In Secure Unit, cell seven  
Profile: CLASSIFIED'  
  
  
And that was it, everything about her was classified, however the tiny amount of information it gave did reveal that she was in fact the escaped individual. It was a disappointment not to have thee Chris Redfield, nonetheless for the time being he could have some fun with his little sister that's if she could be found.   
  
  
A Redfield.  
  
  
Typical that almost wherever he was there was a Redfield, but it just wouldn't be complete without one to get in your way and wreck your plans! He stood up and bashed the centre of the wooden table. The wood cracked in half collapsing on itself. The computer smashed on the floor in pieces.   
  
  
A soldier ran in, "Sir it everything…" he cut off seeing the devastation that Wesker produced with nothing more than a thrust of his hand.   
  
  
Wesker glanced at the young man, he eyes flared with rage, "Get out," he snarled. The man backed up slowly into the corridor closing the door behind him. He kicked the monitor still feeling his pent up aggression over the Redfield's, or anyone associated with them, especially Chris.  
  
  
He casually bent down and picked up his shades, he held them up to the light, "Son of a bitch!" he muttered, "Look what you made me do!" He tossed the broken shades to the floor and stepped on them. He listened to the crunching sounds wishing that Chris was under his foot and that his bones were the ones breaking.   
  
  
There was a tapping on the door, Wesker frowned, there was one thing he hated the most, being interrupted whilst in thought, "I don't want to be disturbed."  
  
  
"Sir, we have a situation."  
  
  
This got his attention, he kicked the fragments of his shades away and turned round, "Enter," he hissed.  
  
  
The door opened and in walked Baker. He saluted and stood at ease. Wesker didn't bother with the saluting he just wanted the man to get to the point, "Make it quick," he said settling down in the leather chair, "What is the situation?"  
  
  
"I believe that Alexia Ashford is still alive."  
  
  
Wesker's pupils grew, and shock passed through him. He grinned at the thought of that bitch breathing, it was a blessing in disguise, she had the T-Veronica virus in her and he could also get his pay back on her too. But that was if what the man was saying was true. He narrowed his eyes, "And why would you assume that?"  
  
  
Baker never liked Wesker; he was cunning and too weird. He didn't give a damn about his men; if they lived or died it wasn't any skin off his back. And those eyes of his, they were just too freaky; it showed how far he went to get the job done, "It's not an 'assumption' sir. She attacked and killed two of my men and spoke through the radio."  
  
  
Wesker rotated the chair round, hands together as if in prayer, "Hmm, interesting so she is alive…" he glanced up at the soldier, "Get some men together and meet me by the elevator in ten minutes."  
  
  
Baker nodded. He turned then stopped, "Permission to speak sir."  
  
  
Wesker rolled his eyes back and sighed, "What is it?"  
  
  
"Are my men and I entering Umbrella's underground facility?"  
  
  
Wesker simply nodded.  
  
  
"But we still have not found the code to get inside. And the entrance is reinforced titanium."  
  
  
"That is why I have this," he picked up a briefcase by the chair; it was a black metal case and looked very strong. Baker didn't realise why he hadn't seen it before. Wesker propped the briefcase on his lap, he ran his finger across a silver strip. The case clicked and he opened it up.  
  
  
"This is H.C.F's latest creation," he picked up a grey cylinder looking Plasticine. It looked about sixteen centimetres long and a diameter of five centimetres, "Plastic explosives with a difference. It's harmless now but used the right way and it can blow a hole straight to the Earth's core. It is what you are going to use to destroy that entrance. Anymore questions?"  
  
  
"No sir."  
  
  
"Then get out!" Baker saluted once more turned and walked out of the room.   
  
  
Wesker swirled in the chair again; he really hated being teamed up with complete amateurs. It was a waste of his time and expertises. The board of directors final say yet again. Those assholes were going to get their dues very soon. He laughed, a low deep sound from his throat, the future was starting to look bright…  
  
  
…And messy. 


	31. I Really Hate Hunters

Kitana- Come one people can you PLEASE REVIEW some more?! Anyway enjoy the chapter ;o)  
  
  
31  
  
  
Chris stepped up the stairs towards the second floor. He could have used the elevator instead however he didn't want to alert the commandos that were still alive. It took him one minute to gather all his courage and go for the plunge. Yeah right it was either that or wait for the monsters to get him first. Not a very honourable death. But what was honourable rushing into a place filled with monsters that you know will kick your ass ten ways to Sunday? He stopped and thought, and then began again. He was only here because of Claire…and the other matter of Umbrella.  
  
  
He paced up grasping onto his gun very tightly. He almost kissed it before, thanking God that he had a very powerful gun. The lights were bright and showed the way clearly, he wiped his brow of sweat and took in a deep breath. It was Alexia, he didn't want to fight her all over again, and it was hard enough back in the Antarctic base. At least there he had the Multi-Launcher to blow the shit out of her. But what was so bewildering was how did she survive? She blew up; even bits of her landed on him when he was escaping. That is if she is alive, but it had to be, that song still drifted through his mind like a plague. It had to be her.  
  
  
Unless it was actually her demented cross-dressing freak of a brother. But Claire had told him that he was dead. She even said the drop was too far for anyone to survive let alone an Ashford. Unless he was carrying the T-Veronica virus too. No, if it took fifteen years for Alexia's body to adapt to the virus then Alfred couldn't have had the virus in him.  
  
  
He didn't know, everything was going pear shaped. He had his suspicions that the information on Umbrella was too easy. All the floor plans and everything were too easy. And Claire, she was stuck in the middle yet again to fend for herself with no weapon. He frowned angry mostly with himself for neglecting her for so long. He sighed pushing the thought out of his head; it wasn't the right place or time for this.   
  
  
He had to stay focused and alert.  
  
  
He stopped walking and faced the long corridor. There were only three doors, straight ahead, to the left and to the right. He glanced at his watch and already five minutes had gone. What was he doing wasting time? He exhaled and walked to the right door. He placed his back to the wall holding his gun up. He mentally counted up to three thrusting the door open and checking for any signs of foul play.   
  
  
It was only a storeroom, nothing more and nothing less. There was nothing of interest inside either apart from a small blowtorch. He picked it up and shoved it in his bag. He moved out again aiming from left to right, he shifted to the opposite door in front of him and kicked it open.   
  
  
He waited, listening to hear anything out of the ordinary. Nothing so he walked inside keeping an eye out and stopped.  
  
  
"Oh dear," he breathed staring at a deformed looking body. By the clothes he could only assume that it was one of H.C.F's operatives. His body was covered in blood and Chris could only make out his crucifix under all the red. The flesh seemed torn, ripped by something razor sharp. Chris bent down examining the wounds, he'd seen this all before. Back in Raccoon City, Rockford and the Antarctic.  
  
  
Hunters.  
  
  
He shuddered; he really hated them nasty looking beasts. Wesker's favourite plaything, "Damnit," he muttered. He just, for once, didn't want to deal with Hunters. Just once.  
  
  
He stood up and checked the entire area finding nothing other than a dead body, looked like an employee, a dead zombie and another dead commando again having the same wounds as his partner.  
  
  
The place was clean, but it didn't mean that the Hunter or Hunters weren't lurking around.   
  
  
He backed up leaving the room and headed for the last one on the level. He walked up having a huge sense of doubt. He could understand why, if the Hunter or Hunters wasn't through door number one or two, then door number three, being third time lucky, would have a high chance of containing them.   
  
  
He kept walking towards the door, and it felt as if the hallway was stretching out before him making his journey a lot harder to complete. He stood by the door breathing in and out has fast as he could. He reached for the door and stopped, just letting his hand rest on the metallic handle. He stepped back unable to go in, he knew he was being stupid, if there were anything inside they would get to him even if he didn't go in. And then there was Claire; she could be in there trapped or unconscious surrounded by those things. It pushed him to reach for the handle again and flung the door open. He stood at the threshold listening to the deafening silence and gazing at the eternal darkness. He gulped wiping his face and neck of sweat.  
  
  
He leant forward touching the inside walls for a light switch. He cursed mentally feeling nothing but wall. "Right," he whispered, "It's now or never."  
  
  
He moved in keeping his back to the wall, the opened door was good for two reasons, escaping and its light. Although dim that it was, it's light helped him contain his anxiety.  
  
  
Almost.  
  
  
The room seemed quite large; he stopped only one metre away from the door.   
  
  
"Claire?" he called out. She didn't answer. Maybe she wasn't in there. He exhaled moving back to the door but stopped again. What if she was unconscious? Lying inside the dark bleeding to death?  
  
  
Something moved, a faint sound of rustling clothes. His head moved to the direction before he could even think. The same sound appeared again but to his left. He aimed his gun up concentrating hard. The thing was giggling, a soft female sound filled with wicked fun.   
  
  
Alexia!  
  
  
He gulped again, dreading to face her for a second time. But it had to be done or things and many innocent lives would die if he didn't at least try and finish her. He took in a huge breath and pushed himself off the wall walking deeper into the darkness. He didn't know what he was going to accomplish walking in the dark blind. Knowing her she would be watching him already. Closely monitoring his movements before getting bored and ending it there and then.   
  
  
He swirled within his spot checking behind, in front, above, below, left, right trying to locate her and her 'creations'. She moved again as quickly as lighting and laughed, a much louder tone echoing within the room.  
  
  
"Chris and Claire went up the hill, to fetch pail of water. Chris fell down and broke his crown, and Claire…" she emphasised on Claire's name. She paused to laugh, "…And Claire came tumbling after," she giggled again, laughing at her sick joke.  
  
  
Chris frowned forcing his anxiety away and replacing it with aggression, "Why don't you face me Alexia?"  
  
  
She didn't reply, instead she just hummed along to her song watching him squirm.  
  
  
The humming was getting to him, she kept singing and singing that twisted nursery rhyme, "Shut up!" he cried, but she only laughed again delighted that he was crumbling with nothing more than a rhyme. But he was also boring her…  
  
  
Chris froze, he heard snarling, faint that it was it was getting louder and louder. He turned to face the growling and prepared himself for it.   
  
  
"Chris and Claire went up the hill to fetch a pail of water…"  
  
  
Something ran forward knocking him down. He kept a hold of his gun, aimed and shot inside the darkness. Whatever it was vanished. He stood up glaring for something to pop out again. Thudding came running towards him knocking him to the floor again. His gun fell from his grip and into the blackness. He looked up seeing a howling Hunter above him; it picked him up and shoved him into the floor. He smashed his head losing all focus and control. He didn't know what to do, he wouldn't see properly and he lost his gun.  
  
  
Then something light walked forward, its face was blurry but the shine of its golden hair was something he couldn't miss. It lay just under its waist. It laughed, no she laughed.   
  
  
"…Chris fell down and broke his crown…" she sang still filled with amusement. She bent down closer to him and touched his head. She came away with a drop of blood. She grinned sucking her finger dry, "Tasty."  
  
  
The green monster stood just behind. It snarled eager to taste what she was enjoying, "Chris, Chris, Chris," she pouted almost disappointed, "I had high expectations of you. And now look, your mangled body lies helpless on the floor while my pet is dying to taste you," she sighed, "You're no fun."   
  
  
She knelt down grabbing his shirt up and pulled him to his feet. She leant into his body and hugged him close to her chest as if he was a child, "It's almost sad to see you go," she whispered close to his ear. She moved back, his eyes were still out of focus and he didn't know if an angel or a demon was staring into his face. Her body was just too close for his comfort, he wouldn't mind it but she was Alexia and that was a huge problem.   
  
  
Beautiful that she was, she was still a demon.  
  
  
She moved closer to him allowing an inch between their lips. Her faint perfumed scent washed all over him like a breeze, she smiled gently laying her lips onto his, "But then again," she whispered, "I still have big plans for Claire. Big plans," she giggled shoving him back to the floor.  
  
  
She moved to her pet and stroked it, running her nails across the reptilian skin. It gave out a soft purring sound from the back of its throat, "Have fun now Chris."  
  
  
He sat up and stared as the blurry Alexia walked out into the dim light humming her song.   
  
  
He turned to the Hunter still a little dazed. It snarled revealing its sharp teeth.  
  
  
"I really hate Hunters." 


	32. Food Glorious Food

Kitana- I suppose I should say (now that this is the 32nd chapter) that I DO NOT OWN ANY OF RESIDENT EVIL CHARCHERS whatsoever!! However all characters that are mine are min ALONE!  
  
Anyway on with the story and O MY GOD is this big or is this big!!!  
  
Enjoy!!! ;o)  
  
  
32  
  
  
Claire closed the door and dragged herself to a chair. She settled down in it laying her head on the cool plastic surface of the table and sighed. Mike sat opposite her panting like a dog, they had ran down three flights eager to get away from anything that was in a form of a zombie or a commando. Luckily her drop in the vent saved her two flights, but she wasn't so great about it since her back was really aching.   
  
  
Well everything was clear until level four came about. Every single zombie imaginable had to pop up at the same time that they were passing, and of course if that wasn't enough the light came on but with an Umbrella 'lock down'. Claire couldn't stop herself from swearing as the metal shutters covered up the glass. She also couldn't keep her anger in anymore and just went ballistic smashing the shutter in and in. It came to a point where Mike had to restrain and drag her down the stairs before the zombies took a chunk out of her.  
  
  
Claire glanced at her hands, they were sore and her right was bleeding, she cursed unable to accept that everything wasn't going right. Ammo was fading and now with the 'lock down' was there anyway of escaping Umbrella's wrath? She didn't think so anymore, her luck was running out.   
  
  
Mike looked up, "What's wrong?"   
  
  
She held up her right hand, "This and that," she pointed at the door, which had a table flipped over to block anything from coming in. Time was getting short, she could hear them coming, dragging their virus infected bodies towards them.  
  
  
He took her hand and examined it, "I can fix this, but," he glanced at the door, "but that is something we have to do."  
  
  
She huffed, "But I'm just too tired and hungry to do anything," she faced him and he smiled.  
  
  
"Well just look behind me."  
  
  
She leant on her left side gazing at the back of the room, "No fucking way!" she gasped. She stood up as if something yanked her out of the seat. They were in the hospital's cafeteria, surrounded by food.   
  
  
"But first we need to clean your wound."  
  
  
"Yeah whatever," she mumbled unenthusiastically still staring at the covered up kitchen. He stood up still holding her hand and led her to the side door to the kitchen. He grabbed the knob and twisted…and twisted again.  
  
  
"Shit!" he fumed kicking in the door. He turned round to Claire who had her arms crossed over her chest, "Hey, who was the one who got psychotic over a shutter in the middle of a zombie ambush?"  
  
  
She shook her head taking out the handgun, "Stand back," she said aiming at the keyhole. Mike stepped behind her and waited. Claire narrowed her eyes, steadied her hand and fired.   
  
  
Mike moved up and rattled the knob, "Once more."  
  
  
She nodded, he moved back, and she fired again. Mike rattled the doorknob swearing at each time the door wouldn't open. Claire sat down and watched him rant at the wooden door. He seemed to loose his cool and started kicking it in.   
  
  
"You piece of shit! Open damn you!" he stopped and just stared at it, "I am going to open this door Claire, if it's the last thing I'll ever do," and then he started again. She rolled her eyes back and glanced at her surroundings.   
  
  
Was Umbrella cheap or what? The place was a small shitty little thing with no more than eight rectangular tables covering about six people on each table. The décor was enough to make anyone loose their appetite, bright yellow walls with dark navy boarders. There were two vending machines at the far end, one with chocolate bars and crisps, and the other containing drinks, coke and stuff.   
  
  
She stood up and walked to the vending machines, she glanced at Mike and was about to tell him about them but he was just too involved with the door. So she left him. She didn't know how to do this, she had no money and she wasn't sure opening them up was going to be easy. She clutched her gun and thought, using the gun was severely out of order, there weren't enough bullets left and she already wasted two. She really felt weak and sleepy; she slid back on the floor dizzy.  
Her head was spinning. She closed her eyes trying to stop the constant spiralling, it was making her sick.  
  
  
Mike finally gave up, only because his leg was hurting. He didn't understand why the door was not opening. It was wooden!! Nonetheless he couldn't subject his body to more pain. He turned round only find Claire lying on the floor still. He couldn't see any zombies or anything like that around, but he ran anyway.  
  
  
"Claire?" he said lifting her up and propped her against one of the vending machine.   
  
  
She opened her eyes, just barely, "I think…" she swallowed, "…I'm going hypo…"  
  
  
He looked at her, "What?"  
  
  
She huffed and frowned, "You're a doctor aren't you?!"  
  
  
"Of the brain! Not of the body!"  
  
  
"Ok, ok! I need to eat something to stop the dizziness," he pulled her away from the machine and rested her against the wall. He returned to it, stood back and kicked the glass with his foot. It broke in no time and he grabbed anything and everything. He ran back to Claire placing the chocolate bars and crisp packets on top of her lap. She quickly grabbed something that resembled a chocolate bar and ripped it open shoving the food in her mouth.   
  
  
Mike sat next to her tired; he reached for a chocolate bar and slowly tore off the wrapping, "Bon appetit."   
  
  
Claire laid her right hand on her leg, the hand was too painful to move let alone use. Blood was still escaping from her wound and it dripped down her trousers soaking into the black denim. She struggled with the wrapper almost throwing it across the room in a fit of rage. Mike stood up and walked to the drinks machine; he leant into it closer and examined the lock. No glass to break and only a thick plastic cover, it was going to be more difficult than the other vending machine.   
  
  
He turned back to Claire, shrugged and thrust the machine to the floor. Claire could feel the ground shake as the machine collapsed. She frowned startled by the loud noise, "You could of warned me."  
  
  
"Sorry," he replied pushing back the machine, the lock was loose but still intact. He stopped and looked around for something to bash it open.  
  
  
"Here," called Claire holding the pump action.  
  
  
He grinned, "You read my mind," and took it. Using the butt of the gun he rammed it into the lock. It gave way. Mike handed it back and grabbed a bottle of water. He moved to Claire and sat down again, "Right this looks bad," he took her hand and laid it out.  
  
  
Claire jerked slightly; he laughed, "Baby."  
  
  
She grimaced, "It hurts."  
  
  
"Now you know how I felt," he muttered.  
  
  
"Well at least I was more gentle than you."  
  
  
"Yeah right, it was you who was dashing that green stuff in my eyes."  
  
  
"If you would of stopped moving in the first place then it wouldn't of gotten into your eyes."  
  
  
He opened the bottle of water and took out a packet of tissues from his pocket, "Now this might sting." He doused the tissue and softly wiped the blood away.  
  
  
She watched him carefully as he cleaned her wound, "So, do you believe me now?"  
  
  
He looked up at her, but didn't smile; there was almost an understanding look within his eyes. He looked away and went back to her hand; "I knew you weren't crazy when I first saw you walk into my office."  
  
  
"Why was that?"  
  
  
"I really don't know. I've dealt with a lot people, but you were so assure of yourself."  
  
  
"Can't a crazy be 'so assure' of themselves? And I did try to commit," she stopped and forced herself to say it, "suicide."  
  
  
He smiled and looked up, "Claire," he said, "You don't need to be crazy to commit suicide. You knew it was wrong but it didn't stop you."   
  
  
"Yeah, because I was crazy."  
  
  
"No, because you were unhappy," he sat back, "Because you were grieving and very depressed. You thought it was the right thing at that time. You even said that it was 'a cry for help', to release the pain."  
  
Claire nodded, it made complete sense. But it didn't help her under why she was seeing Steve. She smiled wiping her cheek, "You're good at this."  
  
  
"It's my job," he smiled.  
  
  
She laughed taking back her hand, although it was still sore, the bleeding had stopped and it was less likely to get infected. She yawned and settled back into the wall.   
  
  
"How are you feeling? Dizziness gone?"  
  
  
"Almost," she yawned.   
  
  
He smiled, "Rest for a while," and he patted his lap.   
  
  
"But," she pointed the door, worried for their safety.   
  
  
"I'll be awake Claire. Don't worry so much," she looked at him for a while and placed her head on his lap for a short rest.  
  
  
"Ok," she whispered, "I'm trusting you with my life," and she seemed to drift away.  
  
  
"Enjoying yourself Claire?" the voice was so familiar, but the warmth it used to hold was drowning in malice. She opened her eyes and Steve was staring back at her.  
  
  
"Steve?" she said a little confused to see him.  
  
  
"What? You're surprised to see me or something?" the bitterness was so thick, it was nauseating. He narrowed his eyes and looked away from her.  
  
  
"Why are you angry?"  
  
  
"Why?! Look over there!" he pointed out in front of him and there she was laying her head on Mike. Steve narrowed his eyes again grinding his teeth together, "You're telling me that's not you?"  
  
  
She stared at the brunette sleeping soundlessly by Mike, "I'm only sleeping Steve."  
  
  
He laughed, a high sound that meant he didn't believe her, "You're only sleeping," he said and got up, "Sleeping my ass! I died for you Claire and is this how you repay me?!"  
  
  
She immediately stood, "Steve no! No!"   
  
  
"Why lie to me? I'm you! I know what you think, what you," he paused and anger washed away leaving his sadness to engulf him, "feel."  
  
  
She sat back down, closed her eyes and sighed, "What do you want me to do? Grieve for you for the rest of my life? I have to move on Steve."  
  
  
He stood there in the light as if a lost child, his red hair soft and gentle lying over his forehead. His sad filled blue-green eyes staring back at her seeking for an ounce of hope. She didn't know what to say to him, her heart did love him but he was gone. She knew she wouldn't get over him and he would always have a place in her heart, but she needed to move on, start fresh. He couldn't understand that, he felt as if an insect, small and insignificant. He didn't want to be erased or replaced, he only existed because of her and if she moved on then he wasn't needed anymore.  
  
  
"But what about me? I need you!" he couldn't contain his emotions any longer; he didn't want to be cast aside as if he was nothing.  
  
  
"What about you?! Your dead Steve!" she regretted it as the words flew from her lips.  
  
  
He stopped, his whole body froze and she saw it…fear, fear of being alone, fear of the endless isolation and the fear of not having her anymore. The room went silent and he only stared at her in disbelief, his tears ran on their own accord as if they shared his pain. "I might be," his voice was plain all his emotions, anger, fear, love vanished, "but I'll never stop loving you."  
  
  
"Steve," she said feeling the guilt pass through her. He turned round and began to walk, "Steve."   
  
  
He didn't seem or want to hear her.   
  
  
"Steve!" she called out.   
  
  
"You alright?" asked Mike, she opened her eyes, gasped and scrambled away from him.  
  
  
"Claire? What's wrong?"  
  
  
"Nothing," she snapped, "Nothing," she said again but calmly, "Nothing's wrong, I just had a nightmare. Anyway how long have I've been asleep?"  
  
  
"Not long. About a few minutes."  
  
  
"Right," she frowned, "Well we best get out of here."  
  
  
He nodded and stood; she did the same still adding a huge gap in between them. He picked up his shotgun and moved quietly to the barricade door. He glanced back and signalled her to move. She took her gun out, secured her rucksack with the bottle of water and a few snacks and walked up to him. Mike slid the table away from the door, "Ready?" he whispered.  
  
  
Claire nodded and he opened the door. He peeked his head through and returned to her, "How many bullets do you have?"  
  
  
She frowned confused by his question, "Not many, why?"  
  
  
He coughed, a nervous sound from his throat, "Well it doesn't look great out there." He backed away from the door clutching his pump action firmly, "You best stay behind me."  
  
  
The door opened slightly, moaning sounds emerged from behind it. She took a deep breath and whispered close to Mike, "Headshots will decrease the amount of ammo you use," she paused hearing the groaning coming closer and closer, "I'll try the best that I can with my gun and," she hated to say it, "combat knife."  
  
  
He was about to object, but she cut him off, "I'll try and damage their legs and ankles with the knife. At least they'll be a lot slower than usual." Mike focused all this attention to the door, Claire was right and it was the best they could do even if it was very dangerous. He nodded and Claire moved up to the far right from him.   
  
  
She glanced at her gun and shook her head, attacking zombies with only a knife was down right insane, but it had to be done. She took another deep breath and released it. Mike glanced at her; she smiled and winked, "Whatever you do don't die on me."  
  
  
He laughed, "That's my main priority."  
  
  
The door opened revealing a zombie-infested corridor, "Oh shit," she muttered to herself suddenly awoken by the loud and very intrusive sounds of the shotgun. The first four went down turning the white floor red. She heaved as the rotten smell of blood wafted towards her. She shook her head trying her best to gain her focus back. His seven shells were used and he backed up loading the pump action. Claire steadied herself bringing her handgun up; she narrowed her eyes and aimed.  
  
  
One zombie went down with a headshot.  
  
  
Her second zombie went down with another headshot.  
  
  
The same with the third.  
  
  
They kept on coming even though they were so slow. She aimed again and pulled the trigger. A miss, it went straight into the chest not even slowing it down.  
  
  
Mike began again only achieving two headshots out of his seven bullets. He cursed moving further away from the door. Claire looked back at her incoming opponents. The smell was almost disorienting, her eyes were burning and she felt she was about to vomit every second. She exhaled aiming and shooting and missing every single shot. She pulled the trigger again and…  
  
  
…Nothing! The clip was empty, "Fuck!" she cried.  
  
  
"How are you doing?" called Mike.  
  
  
"How the fuck do you think I'm doing?!"   
  
  
"Better than me I hope."  
  
She laughed as the truth was sinking in, "Since you're the one who has the bullets, I'll say I'm screwed!" Claire moved back and threw her useless gun into one zombie, it hit its head, the zombie groaned, shook its head and lunge forward.  
  
  
Claire only had less than a milli-second to draw her knife and plunge it into the neck of the zombie. She scrambled away pulling the blade out from the flesh. The zombie sagged to the floor convulsing in its own blood. She frantically glanced at her surroundings for anything to use against the horde of zombies.  
  
  
Grabbing a chair she jabbed it into the crowd as well as using the knife to slice into their legs. Some fell down on top of each other trapped under the un-dead bodies. Some with their mouths open dragged themselves on the floor towards her. She rammed the chair on a few heads or kicked in their skulls. But it wasn't good enough, each zombie she killed, two popped up in its place. She backed up until there was no place to go. She was trapped, trapped by concrete and the un-dead. She jabbed the chair into the crowd, but one zombie caught it and wouldn't let go. Claire didn't know what to do, so she pushed the chair with all her might until it pierced the zombie's chest. It groaned as the wood passed through its chest and reappeared at the back. It fell backwards, knocking a few of its comrades as it scraped at the air.  
  
  
Now she had the knife, and they were closing in on her fast.  
  
  
"Mike!" she screamed, "A little help here!"  
  
  
Mike knocked the last of the zombies he was fighting and jumped up onto a table blasting at the un-dead that enclosed Claire. He jumped down hitting and knocking with his gun any and almost every zombie. He opened a path to Claire, yanked her hand and ran across the fallen un-dead.  
  
  
"You alright?" he puffed as they dodged the un-dead leftovers.  
  
  
"Pea-chy," she cried as he kept hauling her through the zombie maze and out into the clean and clear corridor.   
  
  
They stopped, bent down and panted away. The zombies still inside seemed lost; they wandered the cafeteria looking for the two humans. Mike laughed unable to maintain the adrenaline he was feeling. It was a rush being so close to death and yet so far.  
  
  
He grinned at her still laughing off the natural high he was receiving, "Wanna do that again?" 


	33. Brandy Straight Up

Kitana- Hello all, I was wondering could you tell me what you think about Mike and Miriam. They are new and I would like to know if they are worthy of being in this story. If they annoy and why…stuff like that…  
  
Anyway enjoy the story as always ;o)  
  
33  
  
  
Leon picked up the shotgun and sat in one of the two couches. Miriam locked the door shoving a wooden chair under the doorknob. She sighed and walked to a cupboard taking out a bottle filled with brown liquid.  
  
  
"You want a drink?" she asked.  
  
  
"It depends. What your serving?"  
  
  
"My favourite, Brandy" she twisted the cap, breathed in the contents and took a long swig, "Muy bueno."  
  
  
She smiled handing the bottle to Leon; he took it taking a mouthful.  
He sighed feeling the warm sensation heavily within his chest, "Now that's some good booze."  
  
  
"Yeah imported all the way from Andalucia," she took it back staring into the beautiful liquor, "I brought it in for the girls," she looked at him and took another swig drowning the pain, "but they're all dead now."  
  
  
"How did you survive?"  
  
  
She pointed up at him to a vent, "I panicked. I climbed the sofas and tore the grate off. I don't know how long I was in there, but I got out not long ago, when the power came on." She closed the bottle hugging it close to her chest and slumped next to him, "I locked the door, switched the lights off and just sat in the corner," she laughed quietly, "I thought that someone would have to come eventually. But no one came except for you."   
  
  
She blinked snapping out her trance, "So how many are there of you?"  
  
  
Leon cleared his throat and shifted slightly within his seat. He had a feeling she wouldn't like the answer, "Err, two."  
  
  
Miriam started laughing, and he honestly thought she was laughing because it seemed funny to her, but that was when her laughs turned to sobs that he thought differently. She stood up and began pacing her area. She took off her glasses and rubbed her stressed eyes, she replaced them and stared down at him, "Two?" she whimpered, "Two? I'm sorry to say it Leon, but we're screwed!"  
  
  
"Hey no we're not. You just need to calm down," his face softened, "Chris - the other who's with me – is very good, and he's been through these kinds of situations many times before and always survives."  
  
  
She calmed down and stopped pacing, but her hands were still shaking, "Yeah and one man is gonna make everything better? I don't think so," she said unscrewing the cap, "I need a drink."  
  
  
Leon frowned, "And another thing. Maybe you should lay off the booze."  
  
  
Miriam pulled the bottle away from her mouth and wiped the excess from her lips, her eyes were narrowed and very unpleasant, "Don't tell me what to do! I can't deal with the shit out there. I need a drink to ease myself!"  
  
  
Leon relaxed in his seat, his hands were up in defence, "Fine, whatever." As long as she didn't get drunk then he was perfect with it.  
  
  
Miriam took one last taste and closed it; she exhaled while walking to the back of the room. She picked up a black bag and shoved the bottle inside, "You know this was my night off. I would have been home a long time ago."  
  
  
"So why didn't you?"  
  
  
She turned round and sighed, "I was covering for a friend, she wanted to swap shifts. I said yes and here I am. Strange but I had seconds thoughts about swapping earlier," she pushed off the edge of the table and moved towards him, "Oh well, it looks like I wasn't destined to have a good night."   
  
  
"Me either," he stood up, "Well let's go."  
  
  
She looked at him, "Out there?"  
  
  
He simply nodded.  
  
  
"But it's dangerous. Shouldn't we wait for the police or something?"  
  
  
"I wish that was an option Miriam, but to be frank if we don't do something about our situation now, then we will be screwed. And don't worry," he paused taking out his Desert Eagle, "You seemed capable enough handling this before, so take it and keep it close."  
  
  
Miriam reached out; her fingers lay on the metallic butt of the gun. It was cool, but still a little unsettling. He moved closer taking her hand gently and wrapping her fingers around the butt, he smiled, "Don't frown so much. You'll be fine."  
  
  
She grasped the gun and took it in. She narrowed her eyes and aimed the gun at the far wall, "So all I have to do is pull the trigger?"  
  
  
Leon came round standing behind her and glanced at a vase on the table. He moved into her and laid his hand on hers, "Relax and follow me," he said through some strands of her hair. Miriam stood very still; he was so close, his body dug into hers as he concentrated. She felt a little aware of him, but didn't mind. His faint scent of aftershave clung to his skin and collar of his shirt. It smelt nice, not too strong but subtle. She giggled as his stubble tickled her cheek. Leon glanced through the corner of his eye and realised his body was practically encasing hers. He coughed nervously, "Umm, err, yes. Focus on the vase."  
  
  
She smiled and leant backwards into his chest, "Like this?"  
  
  
He cleared his throat again; sweat ran down his forehead, "Once you have the object in place pull the trigger."   
  
  
She focused for a second, steadying her hand and viewed the far object, "I see," she whispered, "Thank you Mr? You know I don't know your full name."  
  
  
Leon stepped back. Miriam turned round and smiled, "Leon. S. Kennedy," he bowed sweeping his hand back, "At your service."  
  
  
She laughed, "Miriam Hernandez," she said curtsying, "Pleased to meet you." She stood up straight and offered her hand; he took it and shook hers gently, "What does the 'S' stand for?"  
  
  
"Simon."  
  
  
"Simon," she repeated and smiled, "I like it."  
  
  
Leon blushed, lightly, it wasn't obvious but it did add colour to his pale cheeks. He moved quickly to the door and switched to rookie-police-cop-Leon. S Kennedy mode, although he really wanted to stay where he was with Miriam, and get more equated…  
  
  
…So to speak.   
  
  
He pulled away the chair, lifted up his shotgun and opened the door. He stood under the doorframe very quietly glancing from left to right of the hall. His body relaxed and he glanced at Miriam, "Let's go."  
  
  
She understood and followed behind him walking out into the corridor. The next-door zombies were still groaning and hitting their pathetic excuse for a door, Leon glanced at it, the hinges were practically broken, "Stay close," he whispered hoping that the hinges would hold for a little longer. There was one door to the left; it was a little bit down the hall away from them. He took a deep breath and trod towards it.  
  
  
"Leon, the exit is behind us."  
  
  
He stopped, "I'm not going to the exit, I need to search for someone," he looked at her, "There's no way out of this hospital. It's been locked down by metal shutters."  
  
  
She smiled weakly and walked in front of him, "Nice of you to mention it now. Oh well let's find your 'friend' then."  
  
  
He moved up next to her, "So is your friend male or female?"  
  
  
"Female. Her name's Claire and she's the sister of Chris." He stopped at the door, "Stay by the wall."  
  
  
She nodded. Leon twisted the knob; he held the shotgun close, pushed the door in and switched the lights on. Aiming his gun outwards he stopped, he calmed down and turned to her, "Clear."  
  
  
She laughed exhaling her anxiety, "For a second there I thought I was going to have a heart attack."  
  
  
"You and me both," he said joining in with the laughter, "But it means that we need to go up."  
  
  
"So do you have anyone waiting at home for you?"  
  
  
Leon looked at her, "A girlfriend?"  
  
  
"Yeah."  
  
  
"Why Miss Hernandez are you coming on to me?"  
  
  
She laughed shaking her head, "Bit of a lame come on don't you think?"  
  
  
"Not when a beautiful woman is asking," he grinned.  
  
  
She sighed, "You ever talk to Claire like that?"  
  
  
"Yeah, why?"  
  
  
"How she react?"  
  
  
"She calls me a perve."  
  
  
"No wonder. You're cute Leon but you're just a bit cheesy."  
  
  
"Does that mean you like me?"  
  
  
Miriam rolled her eyes back, "I think we have bigger problems to solve. Like not getting killed," she began walking down the hall, "Come o-"  
  
  
She stopped walking, the zombies had broken through the door and were now scattered in the hall. He ran after her, "Move away!" he yelled.  
  
  
Leon came charging by her blasting his shotgun at the un-dead. Most of them groaned as fragments of the shell hit them. Red patches emerged from their tattered clothes. They were like brainless humans, some even looked fresh, alive. Like they never changed. But it was when looking in their black, soulless eyes that she truly saw their nature.  
  
  
She froze unable to move. The sounds from his shotgun stopped. She wasn't sure if he was there anymore, she wasn't even sure if he even existed, "Miriam! Shoot them!"  
  
  
She heard him, almost like a distant voice within the loud groaning and moaning. She forgot how to shoot, but she lifted her hand out anyway and pulled the trigger. Nothing came out, just a silenced clicking sound.  
  
  
"Put the safety off!" Leon panicked she was closer to the zombies and she wasn't firing on them. He finished reloading his gun, pumped the chamber with a bullet and moved up closer to her firing into the zombies at the same time.  
  
  
"Miriam!" she wouldn't move, she looked like a living statue, "Miriam!" he pumped his last bullet into the chamber and fired it. The target zombie fell down on the floor. Leon ran behind her and wrapped his hands around the gun. He put the safety off. He didn't have enough time they were coming, so he used her to pull the trigger. A zombie went down. He dragged her back while encasing her fragile body. She could feel him as he tried to prevent her unnatural death. He focused bringing up their hands and fired on the zombies, they when down slipping in their own blood.   
  
  
Leon halted; his heart was pumping out of control. He honestly thought Miriam was going to die. He released a deep breath and relaxed himself. Almost slumping against her. They stood weakly surrounded by dead corpses and rotten blood.  
  
  
"I froze," she whispered, "I wanted to defend myself, but I couldn't move my hands." She gazed down at the gore; metal nametags shimmered under the red. Miriam fell to her knees and sobbed, "Oh God, I know them," she cried, "They were alive only a few hours ago."   
  
  
Leon crouched down and wrapped his arms around her. He rocked her gently trying as hard as he could to comfort her. He pulled the gun from her hands and laid it on the floor, "I'm so sorry Leon. I froze."  
  
  
"Shhh," he said softly, "It's alright. No damage done."  
  
  
She turned to him, her eyes blood shot, her cheeks damp with tears, "But that's the thing. Imagine something did happen?"  
  
  
He simply smiled pushing back her hair from her face, "Nothing happened Miriam. We're both alive. It's in the past."  
  
  
She smiled at him, wiped her eyes and got up, "This really isn't what I wanted in a job."  
  
  
Leon laughed, "Welcome to my world." 


	34. The Good Old Days

34  
  
  
The Hunter didn't seem to attack; it only appeared to toy with Chris a little bit more before getting tired or hungry, which ever came first. He rubbed his eyes frantically to get the blurry image clearer. Although it wasn't really an important thing to do, he could just about see it. A huge massive green mass standing only inches away. Its smell was something that could never be mistaken; even in a sewer he could detect the Hunter anywhere. And one more thing, the heavy breathing was something that was a disadvantage to the beast; it would give anyone its position. However that was something a Hunter could control when in a battle. It could see through black oil with twenty twenty vision, it could track down a small creature through the roughest weather and still kill it. And the strength and speed of one was something that couldn't be matched.   
  
  
An almost perfect killing machine.  
  
  
Chris carefully and as quietly as possible touched his surrounding area for his gun. However there was no sign of it whatsoever. Instead he pulled out the blowtorch from his bag and placed it in between his knees. The Hunter watched silently as its victim thought of something to save his life. It snarled and backed up into the darkness cloaking its monstrosity within the blackness. Preparing for the forthcoming confrontation.  
  
  
And then there was silence, complete and utter stillness. That was also one annoying thing about a Hunter. They are the hunter and you the prey.  
  
  
He didn't even have seconds to figure a way out of this. He searched his pocket for Claire's lighter, but he couldn't find it. Suddenly the Hunter came out from nowhere and charged into Chris flinging him to the wall. He hit it was a great force; he could feel his entire body shake as the concrete smashed into his spine. He slumped to the floor in pain still clutching the blowtorch with his hand. The lighter, however, lay further in the middle and it meant that he would have to move from the security of the wall into the unknown again. He dragged himself up and all of a sudden realised that he wasn't bleeding, only aching. It was playing with him, it was a surprise that it had some intelligence or thought in it since it was only used as a weapon.  
  
  
Chris steadied himself and focused on the golden shimmer on the floor, all he had to do was lunge into its direction and grab it. But it was easier said than done. There was the Hunter to worry about, he could feel its beady eyes burning into him, it could see him and plan but he couldn't and he knew it would be a one shot at getting the lighter.   
  
  
His adrenaline was at its peak and he felt as if he was indestructible. That was one thing about adrenaline it made you feel that everything was in your reach, in his case survival. He took a deep breath and shoved himself of the wall; in seconds the Hunter was on its move rushing towards Chris. The floor with the lighter was seconds away, but it felt as if time stopped and he was suspended in air. He placed his body in a rolling position for his landing. The Hunter appeared from the shadows, mouth wide, claws stretched out ready to finish what Chris started.   
  
  
Chris reached out for the lighter and rolled onto the floor. The Hunter was almost seconds away from destroying him, but he quickly flicked the lighter on and aimed the flames into the beast. It shrieked for mercy as the hot blue flames melted its face; it retaliated and lashed the air hitting Chris in the stomach. He fell back hitting the ground hard; the Hunter cried again scraping at its eyes for the pain to stop. It fell to the floor whimpering in silence as the torment sank deep within it. Chris grasped his stomach and scrambled away from the animal, he almost felt sorry for it. He moved his hand away from his wound revealing blood; it wasn't that bad but it would hurt a hell of a lot.  
  
  
He exhaled and relaxed, the animal was still alive. Its short small gasps drown the stillness away and gave the atmosphere a disturbing sensation. He glanced around for his gun and saw it not too far away from him; he got up and dragged his wounded body to it. Straining to pick it up he quickly turned to the Hunter.   
  
  
One of its eyes glared at him, it was black and narrowed. The animal was afraid and in great suffering. Chris focused, aimed the gun at the Hunter's melted forehead and fired.  
  
  
The loud gunshot echoed through out the room, never ending always replaying the same sound. The animal instantly stopped gasping, it stopped hurting, and it just lay in its blood, dead.  
  
  
Chris fell to his knees tired; he really wanted to go to sleep right there and then, but the constant thought of his little sister lingered heavily within his mind. He got up and stumbled across the room to the door, he turned back and still saw the Hunter's mangled body. The stench of death was thick, like an invisible viscous mist cogging the lungs with it preventing oxygen from passing through. Then the smell of burn flesh was another thing it was nauseating and very much suffocating. He really needed to get out of that room fast.   
  
  
The hall was clear and so was the stairs, he had to wait anyway for Leon. His ten minutes weren't up yet. Chris slid to the floor and laid his back on the wooden banister. The blood was still sinking into his shirt and down to his trousers. He wrapped his left arm around his waist trying to stop the bleeding. His right hand dropped down to his side covered in blood. He inhaled deeply wishing that Leon would hurry up. But as each time he prayed for the rookie to walk up those steps his hopes were dashed by the stillness of the stairway.   
  
  
He closed his eyes feeling the weight of tiredness on his shoulders. He slowly fell to his side lying quietly on the cold floor and wanted only to sleep…  
  
  
Raccoon city was absolutely beautiful in summer, the trees outside each house was magnificent. Bright and bold cherry blossom trees stood out from everything else. The silky soft pink petals floated delicately across the air as if they were pink snowflakes. Chris walked down the road from his block of apartments and turned into the main street. He didn't live that far from work and he really enjoyed the five-minute walk to and from the Raccoon Police Department.  
  
  
Dressed in his green/black standard issue S.T.A.R.S uniform he quickly approached the huge department hands full with case files. He opened the door and walked inside the grand hall only to be greeted by the statue of the woman. He winked at it and carried on walking to the S.T.A.R.S office. He pushed the door open and there she was pouring herself that vital cup of coffee to start the morning with. Chris stopped where he was and gazed at the long legged woman. Her black skirt lay quite a bit above the knees exposing those luscious legs of hers. Her brown hair was down and laid just above her shoulders, he could just about smell her sweet perfume drifting around the air-conditioned room.  
  
  
He smirked and placed the case files on a nearby table. She carried on with her morning ritual unaware of Mr Chris Redfield eyeing up her firm body, "Mr Redfield this can be counted as sexual harassment."  
  
  
The young woman turned round and smiled. She wore a white shirt that was obviously very tight around her chest. He loved it though and she didn't mind him looking either. She stirred her cup of coffee, black, no sugar or milk, perfect for early morning wakeup calls, and took a long sip. She licked her lips and winked at him, "You have such a way with things Miss Valentine."  
  
  
"I'm glad you notice Christopher," she was the only person that used his name in such as sensual way.   
  
  
He walked forward wrapping his arms around her waist, "I missed you this morning," he whispered.  
  
  
Jill placed the mug on her desk and moved closer into his body, "So sorry darling but I needed to finish some things here," she leant in closer gently kissing his lips with hers, "I promise I'll make it up to you tonight."  
  
  
Chris eyes widen with an almost animal lust within them, "Can't wait," he whispered and glanced at the storeroom door. Jill followed his eyes, "Let's start early."  
  
  
She frowned punching his arm playfully, "Mr Redfield?! What do you take me for?!"  
  
  
He laughed and hugged her close, "Only the best for my princess."  
  
She let go leaning towards the table with Chris still holding on. She picked up a file and opened it up; "As much as I love doing this with you we must get to work. Wesker is expecting the paperwork to be done today and," she glanced at her desk which was filled up with files of, and it seemed, endless cases, "and I've got a lot to do."  
  
  
Chris pouted and snuggled into her neck, "Aww do I have to?"  
  
  
Jill giggled, "Yes."  
  
  
"Really?" he said planting sweet warm kisses all over her neck.  
  
  
She laughed out loud which almost landed her into the floor, "Yes," she cried out in fits of ticklish laugher.  
  
  
"When you're finished," called a voice from the back of the room. Both immediately let go of each other and stood at attention.   
  
  
Wesker walked up towards them both, he pulled his shades away revealing baby blue gems. "Another case file Jill," he said passing her the brown folder. She smiled and took it from him. He quickly turned to Chris, "Redfield I believe there are some case files that need doing."  
  
  
Chris nodded, "I'm on it sir."  
  
  
"Uh-huh make sure that's the only thing your on," there was something almost sinister in the way he said it. As if he really hated seeing Jill and Chris together, always touching or kissing each other in public.   
  
  
He placed his shades back over his eyes and backed away, "Oh before I go," he said quickly turning round with his G-lock in hand.  
  
  
Chris looked at Jill as the folder she was holding fell aimlessly towards the floor covered in red. He didn't know what was happening, everything was moving so rapidly. He grabbed her before she crashed to the ground only to realise that she was already dead.  
  
  
"Such a waste Chris," Wesker smirked, "If you only hadn't of known her she would still be here."  
  
  
Chris was confused, he didn't understand what was going on or why his Captain was firing on them. But what was clear was she lying cold in her own blood.  
  
  
Anger clouded his mind and he lunged forward struggling for the gun only to hear the weapon fire again.   
  
  
They backed away, both with blood-drenched hands.  
  
  
Chris gazed down at his chest and collapsed to his knees, "You bastard," he mouthed.  
  
  
Wesker laughed, "Finally Chris! Finally!" he walked out to him placing the tip of the nozzle on his forehead, "Any last words?"  
  
  
Chris looked up at him completely gob smacked, "You bastard."  
  
  
Wesker sighed, "Guess not," and fired point blank…  
  
  
Claire knelt by her brother. His wound was healed already due to the miraculous effects of the G.H.C; however he was still out of it. Leon sat on the floor quietly with Miriam sleeping near. Mike checked the ammo they had and Claire just stayed with Chris.   
  
  
They dragged him into the generator room away from the naked corridor and stairway. It was the safest place to be, for now.  
  
  
"You alright Claire?"  
  
  
She looked up and smiled, "Yeah, and you?"  
  
  
Leon shrugged, "Great. Just like old times."  
  
  
She laughed, "It's good to see you."  
  
  
"Ditto."  
  
  
Mike sighed and glanced their way, "Right what I've gathered from our 'supplies'," he said glancing down at the sports bag, "we have one, and what I think is, a grenade launcher with six flame and grenade rounds. Five packs of 12 gauge shells left and some clips for the magnum and desert eagle."  
  
  
"Ok," Claire said, "there are five of us. Miriam has the desert eagle, Leon has his shotgun, and you have your shotgun. Chris has his magnum and I have my grenade launcher and combat. Oh yeah and one H.E grenade for each of us. Let's hope this is enough to survive," she gave them a weak smile.   
  
  
Mike smiled in her direction just for reassurance, "Don't worry Claire we handled things with a lot less."  
  
  
Leon frowned just a bit, he really disliked that comment. Mike assumed that he knew her better than himself. The guy only knew her for only a few hours, ok; she might have told him very personal things since he was her psychiatrist but still. He bit his lip and went for it, "Doc," he said.  
  
  
"Mike, please."  
  
  
"Yeah whatever. 'Mike' tell me have you been in this like of situation before?" Leon didn't move or anything, he watched Mike as if he was about to do something spontaneous.  
  
  
"Err no Leon I haven't," he replied.  
  
  
Leon stood up and walked closer, his fist clenched, "So tell me how you can think that you can handle things with only a shotgun?"  
  
  
"I didn't."  
  
  
Claire could see the tension in them both mount, and on top of that Leon wasn't looking his cheerful self. Leon was one thing, but when provoked or angry he wasn't someone to be trifled with, "Leon what's wrong with you?"  
  
  
"Nothing Claire, I just think Doc here-"  
  
  
Mike frowned and walked up a few steps, "It's Mike, not Doc no nothing, just Mike."  
  
  
"Like I said whatever. But it really annoys me how you, 'Mike' think this is all a game. You don't know fuck all. So do us all a favour and keep your naïve comments to yourself."  
  
  
"Leon?!" said a wide-eyed Claire, "What the hell is wrong with you?!"  
  
  
He turned to her, smiled and repeated, "Nothing Claire."  
  
  
"Where the fuck do you get off telling me that?" Mike kept his voice cool and collective but there was a deep hint of anger.  
  
  
"Someone who knows more about these things than you Doc," and he left it like that. He picked his shotgun up and walked back to the sleeping girl on the floor. He really disliked Mike, it wasn't only the Claire thing it was something else. The guy thought he knew everything and he certainly didn't feel genuine. There was something really wrong about Mike that he couldn't place his finger on. But what he could do was watch him closely.  
  
  
Chris could hear the raised voices around him, two he knew were familiar but the other man's wasn't. He groaned as the pain on his stomach panged, "Claire?"  
  
  
"Chris? How are you feeling?" she moved back giving him enough room to sit up.  
  
  
He touched his stomach and grimaced, "Like shit."  
  
  
Claire laughed, it was his way of saying that he was fine; she moved up and hugged him, "I'm so glad to see you."  
  
  
He wrapped his arms around her, "And it was hard to find you."  
  
  
She laughed, "Tell me about it, this place is like a maze or something."   
  
  
"How did you find me?"  
  
  
She let go and leant back on her feet, "Mike," she said glancing at the young man behind her, "and I were heading down from the third level when I saw you on the floor. Jesus Chris you scared me shitless, until I checked your vitals."  
  
  
He nodded; "How you heal me so fast?" he gently touched the now vanished claw marks. The flesh was still tender but luckily the bleeding had stopped.  
  
  
Claire opened her rucksack and threw the G.H.C bottle towards him, "I found this on one of the higher levels." Chris glanced at it and gave it back, "Leon and Miriam-"  
  
  
"Miriam?" he said.  
  
  
"Yeah, she's a nurse here. Leon found her alive; she's been through a lot. They appeared about a few minutes after we found you," and that was all she had to say, however Chris was looking at Mike strangely. She followed his direction and explained it all.  
  
  
"Your psychiatrist huh?" he whispered.   
  
  
She smiled and nodded, "Yeah."  
  
  
Chris glanced down at the floor and then at his sister, "Claire," he said, "I'm-"  
  
  
She stopped him mainly because she already knew and really didn't want to start the tears rolling, "Chris no, I understand and it's ok now. It's in the past and will stay there. Just like everything else."  
  
  
"Even Steve?"  
  
  
She froze as his words sank into her mind, "Yeah, even Steve. But I'll never forget."  
  
  
He smiled and squeezed her hand, "I know Claire, I know."  
  
  
"Well Redfield are you up for a little zombie ass kicking?" called Leon.  
  
  
Chris stood up with the help of Claire and laughed, "As always Kennedy, but if there's nothing up…"  
  
  
"Then we go down," finished Claire. He smiled because it felt all too normal, if there were nothing in the above levels then there would have to be something down. Way down.  
  
  
"How?" interrupted Mike, "I mean with those metal shutters in place we can't escape-"  
  
  
"This is an Umbrella facility Doc, you may no understand it but this isn't your normal hospital," commented Leon.  
  
  
Mike narrowed his eyes, "I've gathered that. But why go down? We are trapped."  
  
  
Leon laughed, "Then stay here Doc. Stay here were the monsters will get you."   
  
  
"Leon that's enough," called Claire, "You two arguing isn't going to help us!"  
  
  
"Your right Claire it won't but," he opened his bag up and pulled out a few maps of some sort, "but these will."   
  
  
Claire moved closer and examined it, "I should of known," she whispered, "Where there's Umbrella you'll sure to find its secret labs."  
  
  
"But how is this going to help us escape?"  
  
  
Miriam opened her eyes and sat up, she saw four people talking about something. By the look on their faces she knew it was important. Leon turned round and smiled at her; she repaid that smile and said, "What's going on?"  
  
  
"Our survival," he simply said.  
  
  
Her expression did not change, "Oh is that all."  
  
  
"Mike," spoke Chris, "The only way to open those shutters is to go down where everything is controlled. We find where the security system is we get out. Alive."  
  
  
He fell silent as the realisation hit him with full force. He knew exactly what he was doing, stalling. He didn't partially want to go where the monsters came from. But as he looked at their situation he had no choice but to follow the leader. The leader being Claire's brother.   
  
  
Christopher Redfield. 


	35. Father

35  
  
  
"Father," she gasped, "It's coming together." The girl looked up to him, to her father, Alexander Ashford, "I will get her for what she did to you and the Ashford family, all of them."  
  
  
She quickly turned to a group of monitors in the corner and smiled, there they were sitting together talking, trying to figure a way to survive. The room was dark apart from the blue-ish glow from the screens and a few candles here and there. There wasn't any furniture apart from her father's chair and the monitors. The walls were damp and grey; there were some signs of luxurious wallpaper but now all gone. The room was filled with a deep sensation of death and evil.   
  
  
It was home.  
  
  
She turned to her father again and gently knelt by his leg laying her cheek on his knee, "More lambs to the slaughter." She softly rubbed her cheek over his knee as if she was a cat and laughed quietly, "By the time the sun rise's the Ashford Clan will be restored, our failures will be wiped out by our victories tonight. I will do anything for you father, just ask it of me and it will be done."  
  
  
She gazed up hoping to hear him tell her what he wished for, but nothing only silence remained. Her blue eyes began to glisten, sadness erupted from within, "Do I displease you father? Have I not shown you that the Ashford family is returning from the ashes?"  
  
  
Alexander still stayed quiet.   
  
  
She didn't know what else to do, she stood from her spot and backed away to the wall, "If I have caused you displeasure father," she bowed her head in shame, "I am sorry." She looked up again hands clenched by her side, hot tears fell from her inhuman eyes, "But I promise you! I will kill her, she will pay!"  
  
  
The young girl opened the door and walked into her bedroom; she quickly wiped her tears and glanced at her room. A simple dark room, with nothing more than a four-post bed with a silken white throw over, an old wooden cupboard and her vanity table with scattered bottles here and there. Right at the back of the room was a large portrait of her father; he sat proud posing in a great matter. Hair as golden as the sun, eyes blue like the sky, he was dressed in rich clothes and she almost couldn't bear to look upon him. Her heart was filled with sadness, mainly because she hated to see her father upset and his silence haunted her. She knew she had failed him and he was very angry with her. She moved to her vanity table and sat in front of the mirror and gazed at the young woman.   
  
  
Her long white strappy dress lay delicately down and around her body, hugging the smooth cool material close to her skin out lining her slim body and breasts. The yellow of her hair was so beautiful it looked as if the sun tinted her hair gold. It was long lying in straight long strands down and surrounding her in that warm yellow glow. Her skin was so white that she looked more ghostly than anything else. Her feet were cool and she felt the soft black carpet under her bare feet.   
  
  
The dim light of the candles gave her enough light to see her face within the mirror, at first she was afraid, scared to see the failure that she was. She looked up and saw her mother shine through. Anger exploded and bubbled inside her soul, "NO! I'M NOT YOU!" she yelled hitting the glass with an abnormal force; the glass flew out in beautiful sparkling shards, like beads of water shimmering within sun's rays resembling diamonds.  
  
  
A piece slit her cheek. It stung slightly creating a flow of red down her face.   
  
  
She simply gazed at the redness of her blood through pieces of the broke glass scattered around her. It was so red, almost too red for blood. It stood out from her pale skin and yellow hair. Her eyes were magnificent sapphire gems and glowed as brilliantly as her blood.  
  
  
She touched the slit rubbing the red back inside her wound, it didn't hurt.   
  
  
It never hurt.   
  
  
The cut seemed to disappear as new skin covered the alien wound. It was always the same.  
  
  
"I'm not you mother," she laughed pushing her nail into the sealed flesh, "I'm never you!" blood oozed out as she created another slit, deeper as if a sharp knife made the wound.  
  
  
She quickly turned to the door glaring at it as if something monstrous was there. She stood up immediately hearing something from her father's room, "Father?!" she gasped running to the door; she flung it open and ran to his feet.  
  
  
"Father?! What is it?!" She looked up at him searching for any sign, "They are coming?"  
  
  
She turned round and glanced at the monitors, "Wesker," she whispered, "He wants to play?"  
  
  
She smiled and walked to the screen, "Come my dear Wesker. I want to play too," she lightly stroked the image of the blonde man on the monitor smudging her blood over his small body, "I'm looking forward to it," she whispered quietly to herself, "We both are."  
  
  
Wesker, Baker and two of his men stood outside the elevator. Wesker held the metal briefcase within his hands and waited for the lift to arrive.  
  
  
The two young cadets carried along with them their assault rifles, Wesker shook his head remembering the time back in Raccoon City as the Captain of S.T.A.R.S. He shuddered quietly; quite surprised that so much time had passed by. And he wondered how he came so far? It was all a mystery now; his obsession for total annihilation of Chris Redfield had taken so much of his time. And yet the man was still alive. It was sad to admit but was he losing his touch? No! Of course not, it was that stupid man always spoiling his plans.   
  
  
He glanced up at the numbers, it was taking too long. If it wasn't for the expendable soldiers around him he could easily have gotten to his destination a lot quicker. The elevator was finally coming up to the seventh floor, it pinged and the doors open.  
  
  
Wesker moved up inside and stood quietly at the back with his shades on. Baker stood next to him and the other two were in front. The door closed and Baker moved up to the button panel. He stopped, glancing from each numbered button to the next.   
  
  
Wesker sighed, "The biohazard one."  
  
  
Baker did as he was told and pushed the button with the biohazard symbol on it. A metal covering underneath the button slid away producing a small panel with numbers and letters on it. Baker didn't know what to do, "Our spies never told us about this."   
  
  
Wesker frowned, he really hated this. Next time, if there was going to be one; he was going to seek outside help. The soldiers that H.F.C recruited were no more than boys, amateurs. If H.F.C really wanted the T-Veronica virus they should have gave him men, not boys!  
  
  
"URD 0610," he said.  
  
  
The man glanced back at his commander and pressed in the code. The panel suddenly closed. "Welcome," called a female voice, "Taking you to Biohazard level."  
  
  
The lift jerked slightly.   
  
  
The above numbers glowed for no more than a second before going to the next one. Wesker crossed his arms over his chest and waited patiently, the briefcase stood up next to him on the floor as if it contained nothing important inside.  
  
  
"Sir?" spoke Baker.  
  
  
Wesker's right eyebrow rose.  
  
  
"If we find the intruder do you want her to be killed on site?"  
  
  
His eyebrow lowered, Claire, he completely forgotten about her. He smiled, "No," he said, "She is not to be harmed. You bring her straight to me."  
  
  
Baker nodded his head and saluted, "Yes sir."  
  
  
His smiled didn't falter in fact it increased as he visualised the nasty things he had plan for Chris's little sister. Such a pretty girl and all, he wouldn't let her go to waste. And also Chris's weak spot, things were looking up.  
  
  
The elevator jerked as it halted on the lowest floor, "Welcome to Umbrella Inc," she droned, "Have nice day."   
  
  
All four men walked out of the lift scanning from one side to another for any unsuspecting things. It was clear and they lowered their weapons. It was only a long corridor with a metal door at the end. Wesker moved up towards a computerised panel. He pressed in the code and waited. The computer scanned its databases for the code.  
  
  
"Access denied," echoed a voice. Wesker cursed mentally for now they would have to use the plastic explosives. He glanced back down the hall. The lift's doors were closed; he opened up the briefcase gently taking out the long grey cylinder shape.   
  
  
"Right," he said, "Baker your men will plant the explosives. Come with me and open the doors."  
  
  
Baker took the cylinder and passed it to the two men. They immediately started settling it at the foot of the reinforced titanium door while Wesker and Baker moved to the back.  
  
  
Wesker grabbed one part of the lift door and so did Baker. It was a complete breeze for Wesker to open it up, however for Baker he struggled mainly because he was weak. When finally opened Wesker looked inside, the elevator was already going back up. He stepped inside the shaft still holding onto the door. Baker moved in and waited for the other two.  
  
  
They came running; the youngest held a small black device in his hand. They walked through closing the metal doors behind them. Wesker took the device, "Boom," he whispered pressing the small red button…  
  
  
…Baker shook his head and opened his eyes, he suddenly scrambled away as he saw one of his comrades crushed by the elevator doors. The force of the explosive drove the metal door inside the shaft smashing into the unsuspecting individual. Blood flowed onto the floor around the young man. Wesker stood up gently pushing back his hair in place; he didn't even give the dead man a second glance. Instead he looked at Baker saying, "Let's go."  
  
  
He got up mainly because Wesker was his commander and a vicious son of a bitch. The other young cadet staggered to his feet rubbing the back of his neck, he grimaced as he saw his friend squashed under the huge metal door. Wesker immediately pushed the door forward letting it fall on the floor within the corridor. He stepped over the body and walked towards the entrance of the Umbrella underground facility. The hall was filled with white dust, he didn't feel the shake or even hear it, but it was some bad shit. He crossed the rumbled filled hall and glanced at the huge hole that used to be the reinforced titanium door.  
  
  
Baker walked up behind him coughing as the white dust settled down onto them.   
  
  
Wesker simply brushed the dust from his shoulders and walked through. The T-Veronica virus was so near, he could almost taste it on the tip of his tongue. He licked his lips eager to get his hands on it, "This way," he called back to the humans.   
  
  
Then there was Alexia lurking somewhere within the underground levels, obtaining it was going to be a bitch.   
  
  
But then again he was always up for a challenge… 


	36. Umbrella Inc

Kitana- Hey all, the reason I bring out so many chapters is because I'm determined to finish this off. The end soon anyway and there's a big surprise too (unless you already know what it is). The thing is I write a few chapters before, so I'm about 6 or 7 chapters ahead from what I put up here.  
  
Anyway thanks all for the reviews and please write more, I really need to know if there is anything wrong with my story (even how small it is).  
  
Thanks again guys ;o)  
  
As always enjoy the story…  
  
36  
  
  
All five walked out of the generator room and towards the elevator. Instead of taking the flight of stairs to the ground floor, they assumed it would be a lot safer taking the lift to their destination. They clutched their weapon close to their bodies and almost said a quiet prayer to themselves. Miriam passed the bottle of brandy around the group; each took a very long swig before venturing out into the unknown.   
  
  
Claire took two gulps and handed it back, Miriam smiled, "Ready?"  
  
  
"I'll be as ready as I'll always be," Claire replied.  
  
  
Miriam laughed, "Then so be it. Vamos la infierno."  
  
  
Chris lead the way followed by Claire, Mike and Miriam were behind her and Leon took the back, scanning every nook and cranny for any of Umbrella's pets.  
  
  
The stairway was clear; the light was such a blessing. Claire bathed within it happy to see her surroundings and friends around her. Chris slowly moved to the metal doors and pressed the arrowed button.  
  
  
"How is everyone?" he said glancing back at each of them. They nodded, and it seemed none of them wanted to speak just in case something or one heard them. He gazed at the numbered panel above the metal doors. The elevator was climbing, but it was taking forever.  
  
  
The lift pinged and the doors opened, no one wanted to stand in the naked stairway any longer. They rushed in one by one with Chris the last one holding his magnum as firm as humanly possible. The doors closed.  
  
  
Each one of them looked at each other not really knowing what to do or where to go. Leon grasped the first blueprint in his palm.   
  
"Right," he said, "The first underground level seems to be," he paused examining the piece of paper, "underneath the ground floor."  
  
  
"So?" called Chris, "Which button?"  
  
  
Claire moved up in front and observed the ten buttons on the panel. She hesitated on one that looked like the symbol for 'Biohazard'. She pressed the button before even thinking about it. A metal panel slid away showing a section with numbers and letters, "I think we need a code or something to operate it," she whispered.  
  
  
Leon sighed and slumped back to the wall; he folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes, "We don't have a code."  
  
  
She fiddled within her pockets remembering the card she took from Watson's dead body. She gazed at the card in her palm and then at the I.D code.   
  
  
"What's that?" asked Chris from over her shoulder.  
  
  
She glanced at him and then at the card, "I took this from my attending psychiatric doctor."  
  
  
"Who was that?" Mike said.  
  
  
"Dr. Watson."  
  
  
"But how-" he cut off realising what it meant, "She's dead," it wasn't a question more of a statement.  
  
  
Claire looked at him; to him she was a colleague, a friend. But to her she was a bitch working for Umbrella. She didn't say anything, nothing to comfort him and she didn't want to explain why she was dead or anything else.  
  
  
Claire punched in the code. The panel immediately closed, "Welcome Dr. Watson," said the female voice, "Taking you to Biohazard level-"  
  
  
The small lift shook, the lights flickered as the rumbling moved everyone around. Miriam panicked and she screamed, Leon grabbed her arms and held her gently. Chris stretched out his hands and stopped himself from falling. Claire fell on top of Mike; she curled to the floor waiting for the shaking to stop.  
  
  
The lights stopped flicking and the loud rumbling sound halted, Claire sat up next to Mike. Leon let go of Miriam and stood back in the corner.  
  
  
"What the fuck was that?!" gasped Chris.  
  
  
Claire stood up and glanced at the moving numbers. At least the elevator didn't break down, "I don't know."  
  
  
"I bet you anything it's the H.C.F," Chris looked at Leon and nodded his head.  
  
  
"I won't put it passed them," he said.  
  
  
Suddenly the lift halted, and the doors began to slide across, "Welcome to Umbrella Inc," she droned, "Have nice day."  
  
  
Leon frowned as the voice echoed on. 'Have a day' wasn't going to an issue it was to survive another day. As the doors open, it was apparent that what made the loud noise and shaking. It was H.C.F all right, no doubt about it. He felt a little happy that it was them rather than a very pissed off monster. He relaxed and settled back against the lift's wall releasing a deep breath that he didn't know he was holding.   
  
  
Miriam touched his arm gently and smiled, "You ok?"  
  
  
He patted her hand, "Yeah," he said, "I am. You?"  
  
  
She smiled again, "I'm trying, but it's still a shock to me," his hand didn't move, instead he squeezed hers a lot harder and repaid the smile.  
  
  
Claire moved out into the wreaked hallway, she jumped over the metal doors just outside the lift and stopped a bit away from the rest. She examined the hole that, she assumed, was the entrance leading to Umbrella's underground facility. She looked back at Chris and frowned, her worried look showed everything, he moved up and stood next to her, "I've got something to tell you Claire."  
  
  
She lowered her launcher and gazed at her brother. Her face held a puzzled look, but it changed slightly to a frightened one.  
  
  
He couldn't bear to look at her already knowing that it would break her heart to know that Alexia was still alive. She had just about moved on from Steve's death and yet it was going to come all back again.  
  
  
"What is it Chris?" her voice was just a touch higher than usual, his silence was scaring her. She touched his arm for a response, "Chris?" she frowned, "What is it?"  
  
  
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and faced her, "Before you found me I saw someone," he sighed, "I saw Alexia. She's a live Claire."  
  
  
She backed away from him unable to let his words sink in her mind, "No," she whispered, "That can't be, y-you killed her. She died in the fire…" her eyes shone, her face held complete utter fear; "I don't believe you."  
  
  
Chris walked closer taking in his sister and hugging her, "I'm sorry Claire, but she is alive," he paused feeling her body tremble at the slight mention of Alexia's name, "I'm so sorry."  
  
  
Claire broke free and walked up towards the hole in the wall. She stopped and played with the white dust on the floor, "He died for nothing," he said quietly to herself, "He died for nothing," he clutched the launcher tightly; her hand grew white from the pressure of her grip over the metal.  
  
  
"Claire?" Chris called out.  
  
  
She turned and there is was that aggressive look, a painful expression that showed she was angry. But there was more to it; she seemed vulnerable, alone like a lost child. He couldn't help with her fear, but he could watch over her and protect her. Claire could see the eagerness and concern within the blue of his eyes, he was trying to hold it back from her but she could see right through him. He was trying to be strong for the both of them; he was trying to be the hero, as always when, for once, she would like to look after him. However he was the oldest and he saw it as his duty to look out for the youngest, she could take care of herself, she was old enough and she had suffered and endured a lot.   
  
  
But to Chris, she would be his little sister. The young girl who went to him when she had troubles with the bullies. She smiled at him, yeah; he was her mother, father and brother rolled into one.  
  
  
Leon stood by Chris staring at Claire, he glanced that the brother, "What happened?"  
  
  
"Alexia is alive," he said as if it explained it all, and it did Leon understood what it meant for Claire and Chris. The nightmare was back.  
  
  
Claire turned round and faced to men in her life, "If we spilt up we can cover more ground."  
  
  
Chris nodded, "What do you suggest?"  
  
  
"Chris, Leon and Miriam you three are together. Take this floor."  
  
  
"No-"  
  
  
"Its decided Chris. Just do it!" she paused glaring at him, "Leon where's the security system?"  
  
  
He looked in his sports bag and took out the maps, "Level four."  
  
  
She smiled, "Great. Mike and I will go to the fourth level and you three plant the C4 here. We'll meet back at the front entrance in twenty minutes."  
  
  
She moved up to Chris holding out her hands for the C4. He frowned angry at what he was going to do, but for some reason it was the right thing. He opened up his bag and pulled out some of the C4, he gently placed it inside her bag, "In and out," Chris whispered.  
  
  
Claire nodded, "In and out."  
  
  
Mike moved up towards Claire, he didn't object, instead he quite liked the idea. They did it before and survived.   
  
  
Claire smiled towards her brother and friend, "I'll be alright," she said, "Make sure you two are."  
  
  
Leon saluted, "Of course," he said handing over the map to her. She took it and backed away.  
  
  
Chris just nodded and watched her sister vanish around the corner, "I shouldn't of done that," he moved forward but was stopped by Leon.  
  
  
"No Chris," he said, "She needs to do this, by herself."  
  
  
He frowned at the young rookie, and realised he was right, "But why here? Of all places?"  
  
  
He shrugged glancing behind him at the hole in the wall, "I don't know."  
  
  
  
Kitana- Hoped you liked that, hey by the way the next you will LOVE!! Can you wait for it? Can you?! MUHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHA, let's see shall we…these next chapters are why I stared out this story in the first place… 


	37. My Copper Haired Boy

Kitana- Ok folks this is the big surprise!!! Hope you enjoy it!!! Cos I did!!  
  
  
37  
  
  
Claire and Mike walked down the corridor; she glanced down at the map and leaded to the nearest elevator. Mike stood close and quiet, he held his shotgun loosely, "Claire are you-"  
  
  
"Why does everyone ask me that?!" she snapped.  
  
  
"Maybe it's because of your expression."  
  
  
She sighed, tired of everything and of the constant questions, "Do me a favour Mike, please stop asking me that question," she looked at him, "I'm fine."  
  
  
He nodded his head. They approached the elevator, Mike pulled the metal grate aside and got in, Claire followed. He pulled the grate back and pressed the 'U4' button. He rummaged in his pocket pulling out a few shotgun shells.   
  
  
The lift moved.  
  
  
He loaded the shotgun and pumped it up. Claire shoved one of her flame grenades into her launcher. She swung the strap round her neck and arm and adjusted it.  
  
  
"When we get up there," she said, "We have to spilt up."  
  
  
Mike gazed down at the map; there were two possible ways towards the security system. One through a lab on the right side of the level and another way through the left side of the level.  
  
  
"You take left. I'll take right. Agreed?" she looked up at him and saw a very young confident man.  
  
  
He smiled and nodded, "You're the boss, boss."  
  
  
She laughed feeling the weight of the pressure seeping away slowly, "Here," she said handing over the map, "I can find my way. You take it. Be in and out."  
  
  
He stared at her taking the map within his hands, "Ok."   
  
  
Claire leant back pushing her hair away from her face; she swiped the sweat from her forehead. She didn't understand why she felt so hot; the area was colder than hot. The lift was close to their destination.  
  
  
"Remember, use as little as you can of the ammo," she glanced at the moving numbers, "We don't have a lot."  
  
  
With one hand on the hilt of her combat knife and the other cupping the launcher, the elevator stopped. Mike moved forward pulling the grate away. Claire moved out scanning the hall, the lights were on but the monsters were nowhere to be seen.   
  
  
Her body tensed up.   
  
  
Her heart was lodged within her throat, she felt as if her brain was going to explode with the amount of adrenaline in her body. She took deep steady breaths and signalled for Mike to move out.   
  
  
He did, running opposite her to the far wall. He nodded suggesting the hall was clear.  
  
  
He backed up keeping his eyes focused everywhere; he smiled towards her and darted down his side of the hall.  
  
  
Claire watched him before seeing herself down the corridor. She pushed her hair back again and tried as hard as she could to relax.   
  
  
At the end of the hall was a large metal door. Only the red and white Umbrella symbol lay on the metal.  
  
  
Claire walked closer towards it, always a little apprehensive at first. Her back kept to the wall, just in case there were any little surprises that would suddenly pop out.   
  
  
She could feel her heat pounding within her chest, getting louder and louder with every step. It felt as if the sound ringing in her head was making her sick, she was scared. It was the truth of the matter, anyone would be. Knowing what she knew would scare anyone, just the thought of some disgusting monster that's only thought is to kill, lurking around the corner would put anyone off.  
  
  
Claire held her launcher as tightly as possible; it was the only thing that could protect her.   
  
  
The only thing.  
  
  
She quickly checked her pockets for the ammo; although it wasn't enough she made sure that they were easily accessible. Especially with everything going on at the same moment and not forgetting Alexia. She opened up her pocket and peek into it, only five fire rounds and six grenade rounds left.  
  
  
As she stepped up to the door, it suddenly opened. Claire quickly backed up to the wall holding the launcher towards her. She took a few breaths before throwing herself forward into the room.  
  
  
There was nothing, absolutely nothing in there, well apart from a few computers; there wasn't anything of the fleshing eating kind near…  
  
  
…well not yet.   
  
  
As she walked into the room, the lights flashed on and the door closed behind her.  
The place was quite small and very cold; she rubbed her arms to stop herself from shivering. By the door were a few lockers, computers and near the back were a few steps leading up to a capsule. Claire jumped back in fright.  
  
  
"Fuck!" she gasped. She just pray to God that whatever was in the capsule wasn't about to wake up and eat her.  
  
  
She turned to the computers to see what was exactly within the cylinder. She sat down on the chair and brought a file up, and began reading it:  
  
"26th April 02:12am  
  
Samples from the Antarctic facility were bought back for analysis. What was found was remarkable…  
  
…The T-Veronica virus.  
  
In all my years working with Umbrella, I have never seen such genius. Alexia Ashford knew what she was doing.  
  
Although the samples weren't enough to duplicate the virus, however since the break through in genetic engineering we have been available to replicate the DNA of the samples to produce a clone.   
  
A clone with the T-Veronica virus worked into the DNA!  
  
This means, by my calculations, that the growth of the clone would take five months to become stable enough for extraction of the T-Veronica virus.  
However until that day, our knowledge of the virus is still very limited."   
  
  
Claire sat back; she knew Alexia died in the Antarctic. And this explained her existence. But the thing was, if Alexia was already alive then who or what was in the capsule? Unless it was the Tyrant!  
  
  
Claire moved from her seat afraid, she hated that Tyrant. It was bad enough knowing that Alexia was back from the grave but the Tyrant too?!  
  
  
But it died, she killed it. Completely destroyed…however, what if? What if it wasn't the Tyrant? But?  
  
  
No! She stopped herself. It wasn't him, she was hoping all over again. He was died and that was it!  
  
  
There had to be more information! She sat back down and frantically searched for any files and came up with one more:  
  
"6th June 06:54am  
  
It has come to my attention that the samples taken from the Antarctic base have been of that of a prisoner.  
  
Prisoner 267. Burnside, Steve.  
  
No matter if the subject was of lowly existence. The T-Veronica virus improves lesser qualities in any subject.   
  
Although the clone will have no memory of what had happen to him until his last moments, he too will not realise that within his DNA is the virus.  
What we have learned from the T-Veronica virus is that it changes the 'faults' of, shall I say humans? Yes humans! And evolves them to a 'godlike' state.   
Enhanced hearing and sight, agilely and speed will become none that we have ever seen. Ability to rejuvenate miraculous and his strength will become greater than ten men…  
  
…Or even more.  
  
In other words the clone would become indestructible.  
  
However, his mind will be as before he died. Which is such a shame, Umbrella might not be able to control him…"  
  
  
She jumped up from the chair, shocked. It just wasn't true! She glanced at the capsule; there was only one way in finding out.   
  
  
Claire moved up closer to the capsule, frost covered the entire glass covering. The glass was thick, about a few inches thick. She hesitated at first, but she made her hand touch the glass. The coolness hit her like a ton of bricks; it was so refreshing and yet feverish. Now all she had to do was look inside, but she couldn't make herself. She backed away and bent down, her heart was overpowering within her chest.   
  
  
It ached so much.   
  
  
Claire glanced up at the capsule again and wiped the frost away…  
  
  
…She staggered to the back of the room mesmerized by the individual within the capsule, she coward to the floor in the corner huddling against the wall in a small ball and sobbed. The cold swept up and down her body like ice-cold fingers. She pulled her hair, tugging and yanking it. She didn't want to believe.   
  
  
It wasn't true.   
  
  
It was her again, she was going crazy.  
  
  
"No you're not Claire."  
  
  
She looked up and saw Steve; he knelt down and gently wiped the tears from under her eyes. He cupped her cold hands into his and affectionately kissed her fingertips with his soft lips.  
  
  
"Steve?" she whimpered, "You're alive?"  
  
  
He smiled then and hugged her close, "Yes," he whispered, "I am. And I've been waiting for you."  
  
  
She glanced behind him and gazed at the capsule, "You look so peaceful."  
  
  
Steve stroked her hair from her eyes and kissed her forehead, "Claire it's time." He stood up holding out his hands to her.  
  
  
She looked at them and didn't know what to do. She laughed in spite of herself, "This isn't real," she stood up backing into the corner. Her face held so much pain and suffering and he knew that she couldn't take any more without giving up her sanity, "I'm losing it again. You're a delusion, I know that, but that," she pointed to the capsule containing the young man with the copper hair, "Is not real!"  
  
  
"Are you so sure?"  
  
  
"Yes I am. Very!" He moved closer, his hand still out to her. She frowned, "Stop!" she cried aiming the weapon towards his body, "I'm not doing this any more Steve. Do you hear me?"   
  
  
"I hear you Claire. That is why this is the end of your torment," he turned to look at the capsule, "He…we are alive Claire. You need to believe that," he turned back to her and moved forward.  
  
  
"I told you to stop!" Her finger hesitated on the trigger. She didn't know anything any more.  
  
  
The nozzle of the launcher poked him gently, he looked down and turned it away, "You won't shoot me Claire."  
  
  
She laughed, "You're so sure?"  
  
  
Steve grinned, "I am. You love me too much to kill me."  
  
  
Her laughing turned to sobs, the weapon dropped from her hands to the floor; she lowered her body to the ground crying. Steve bent closer to her and wrapped his hands around her fragile waist. The smell of his fragrance washed over her like a warm breeze, "I missed your smell," she whispered.  
  
  
He faced her and laid a kiss on her cheek, "And I have missed yours too."  
  
  
He held her hands and led her to the capsule. He wiped some of the frost away touching his lips with the melted ice.  
  
  
Steve leant closer to her and simply brushed his warm soft lips against her cheek; he traced them close to her ear and whispered, "Set me free Claire. I want to be in your arms…forever."  
  
  
Claire opened her eyes; she was only inches away from the capsule. Mist of cool air wafted around her like a cloak. She breathed in and exhaled feeling the tightness within her stomach and chest disappear.  
  
  
She gazed at the young man she loved so much stand in the capsule; inside was flooded with water, maybe something else. He stood inside naked, and very asleep. His copper hair swayed slowly within the container, his chest moved up and down steadily and it almost seemed that he was about to wake up and gave her that smile she loved so much. He looked like he never died and it broke her heart.  
  
  
She glanced around the capsule looking for something that could open it up. And there it was a panel with a clear plastic covering over a red button. She moved to it placing her hand around the covering. Next to it was a slot for a card or something. Some red words flashed above the slot.  
  
  
'Pass I.D card."  
  
  
Claire shifted through her pocket taking out Watson's card. She passed her thumb over the black code and passed it through. The red words turned green: 'Access Granted'.  
  
  
She released a breath lifting the plastic covering away from the button. She quickly pressed it eager to see her Steve breathe life again. She turned back to the capsule.   
  
  
And then she wondered what had he paid to come back from the grave?   
  
  
Maybe his humanity… 


	38. Betrayer

Kitana- OK, I do apologise for the confusion that I bring when I bring the ghost of Steve in. But not to worry, it is gone… ;o)  
  
And you wanted it, so here is another chapter…  
  
Enjoy…  
  
  
38  
  
  
As soon as the panel was activated, the liquid, which encased Steve, was drained away. The liquid slid down his body leaving small clear beads behind, streaming down his skin. He did not move nor stir, he stood there still in his deep sleep.  
  
  
Claire couldn't think anymore, her heart was pounding louder and louder, blocking any noise or thought.   
She was going to suffocate, she couldn't breathe. The waiting was cutting her through and through.  
  
  
The capsule door opened, and instead of Steve waking up and walking out and into her arms, he fell out unconscious.  
  
  
Claire quickly caught him and lowered him to the floor. His skin was smooth and soft, but cold, ice cold. She quickly took off her jacket and covered his pale body. He looked so peaceful, as if he was indeed dead. His copper-red hair shimmered within the bright light; it was flat and stuck to his forehead. His face was pure, soft and completely beautiful. She laid a hand over his chest and felt his heart underneath beat rapidly, his breathing was short breaths as his body tried to adapt to the drop in temperature. He shivered and she moved closer into his body, sharing her warmth with him.  
  
  
"Couldn't you get into the security room?"  
  
  
Mike halted, "No," he said, "How did-"  
  
  
She turned round and smiled, "Practice, practice, practice."  
  
  
He leant against the computers staring at the brunette, "Who's that?" he asked.  
  
  
"Steve," she smiled as the thought of Steve alive, "He's my Steve."  
  
  
"You find anything about the T-Veronica virus?"  
  
  
Claire froze and thought back. T-Veronica virus? Her hand moved slowly to her grenade launcher. In all her sessions and even trapped within this hellhole had she never said anything about the T-Veronica virus.  
  
  
"No," she replied, "I haven't."  
  
  
He glanced at the screen and scanned the files that Claire pulled up, and then he saw it, her hand reaching for the launcher. Mike clutched his pump action, "Hold it," he said, "Don't even think about it."  
  
  
Claire turned round and frowned, "Too late."  
  
  
"Don't be stupid Claire! Get up!"  
  
  
She quickly pulled her red top down covering the combat holster; she hoped he didn't see her do that. It was the only item that could save both Steve and herself.  
  
  
"I said up!" Mike snapped, she did as she was told and stood. He smiled leaning back on the computer bench, "Well Claire. It's just you and me."  
  
  
She glared at him, "Who are you?"  
  
  
Mike aimed the gun at her while fumbling through his pockets for a cigarette, he placed it in between his lips and smirked, "That's a very interesting question Claire. Would you like to guess?"  
  
  
She crossed her arms and brushed her fingers against the hilt, "Not particularly, no."   
  
  
He straightened up frowning, "Arms by your side!" he yelled.  
  
  
She quickly moved them to her side swearing mentally.  
  
  
His body relaxed, the tension seeped away, "You don't have a choice Claire. You have three guesses," he fiddled for a match and stroked it against the bench. He lit the cigarette puffing the flame out and dropping the match to the floor. He inhaled the smoke and blew it out towards her, "Well? I'm waiting!"  
  
  
Claire sighed, "Fine! An Umbrella agent?"  
  
  
He laughed dashing some of the grey ashes to the floor, "I think you can try harder."  
  
  
"A prick?"  
  
  
"Don't be a wise ass Claire. It doesn't become you."  
  
  
Then it hit her, "You're a H.C.F agent."  
  
  
He grinned, "Bingo Claire, bingo."  
  
  
"A very stupid one," she smiled.  
  
  
"I admit, I did slip up Claire. But tell me whose the one with the gun?"  
  
  
She frowned.  
  
  
"Exactly," he smiled, "And whose stupid now?"  
  
  
"So all the psychiatry was bullshit then?"  
  
  
"No actually, it wasn't. I am a psychiatrist. This was just my big break. I was placed here when it was first known about the T-Veronica virus. That T-Veronica virus," he said glancing at Steve.  
  
  
She stepped forward, offended by how he called Steve a 'that'. He pulled his gun up and she backed up just a little, "His name is Steve!"  
  
  
"Ahh," he grinned, "This is the infamous Steve. What a web of intrigue your life is Claire."  
  
  
"Tell me about it," she muttered, "Who are you really? I don't believe it's 'Mike' or is it?"  
  
  
He threw the cigarette butt to the floor and stamped it out, "No it's not," he looked at her and smiled, "Agent Jason Moore, your executioner Claire."  
  
  
Her eyes widen, turning her blue irises black. Her executioner? She couldn't believe it; she had to do something! Anything!  
  
  
"Did I say something wrong?"  
  
  
"Why wait? Kill me now then!"  
  
  
"Unfortunately I can't," he almost looked sad when he said it. The sadistic bastard!  
  
  
"Why?" she fumed.  
  
  
"We're waiting for someone."  
  
  
"Who?" her voice was filled with anxiety. He was mocking her and she hated him for it!  
  
  
"I think you know him," he said, "A very close friend of your brother I think."  
  
  
Her body slumped back a bit, "Wesker," she whispered.  
  
  
"Yes Claire. You're so very sharp at these things."   
  
  
"It's the pressure of having my life threatened so much," she said sarcastically.  
  
  
"A warning my dear, Wesker has a huge problem with you Redfield's. It's like an obsession, he really despises you all."  
  
  
She watched him carefully, examining her best time to attack him. He didn't know she had the knife and if she did it right she could get him without having to get shot, "How did you know about Steve?"  
  
  
"We didn't. We initially thought it was Alexia being cloned, but she's already awake. We're not stupid enough to go against her. Anyway my boss will be delighted to have the T-Veronica virus without having to break a sweat."  
  
  
"Uh-huh, I bet he will be."  
  
  
Jason's arm was shaking, he was having to hold the pump action straight and out towards her. He was losing his grip. His arm wavered just a bit. He frowned moving the gun back and out of her direction…  
  
  
…Claire lunged forward smacking the gun out of his hands; it went off but luckily missed her. She pulled it away throwing it to the far side of the room. He lunged closer to her punching her gut with his fist. Claire backed away holding her gut in pain. He came again this time grabbing her hair and yanking it back, "Ahh Claire, you shouldn't of. I wanted to shoot you instead!"   
  
  
He knocked her in the ribs, she groaned as the pain erupted into her entire body. She struggled from his grip and swung her arm round and smashed him in the jaw. Blood trickled down his lips. He touched the blood grimacing at the same time and lunged at her again. They fell to the floor, Jason on top pinning her arms down to her side, "You know what? I was going to give you a fast death, but you had to be brave!"  
  
  
He slapped her across the face; her body froze as the impact ran through her. She closed her eyes unable to feel or focus on anything. She glanced up at him and spate out blood in his face, she smiled and he slapped her again. Her right hand brushed against the coolest of the combat knife. She gently wrapped her palm round it and pulled it out.  
  
  
Jason smirked, "You wanted to play Claire! It's not my fault you don't like the rules!"  
  
  
She took a deep breath and pulled her arm free from his grasp. She pulled back the blade thrusting it out towards the crazed psychiatrist. She looked up at him and smiled, "I always hated psychiatrists."  
  
  
Jason glared at his chest as the blood flowed through. He fell next to her grasping hold of her knife, disbelief washed over his face as he peered down at the embedded blade. He glanced up at her, mouth open wide, "You bitch!" he said dribbling out blood, "You stabbed me!"   
  
  
Claire scrambled away from him and glared. Blood oozed from the around the knife. He pulled it out gasping as metal hit the floor. He sat up wrapping his bloodied hands around the huge wound within his chest. The blood was like a river, a never-ending flow of red.  
  
  
His hands slipped from his wound and he slumped back onto the floor. Claire moved up closer and peered at him. His greyish eyes glared up at ceiling still, lifeless. She shook her head, took back her combat knife swiping the excess blood off and onto his shirt.   
  
  
Claire sat back panting, her heart was erratic, she almost had problems breathing. She shoved the knife back into it holster and relaxed. She gazed at her hands feeling the warm slipperiness of the blood. She frowned swiping her palms down her trousers and laid them down on the floor holding her body up.  
  
  
Something cool touched her hand; her body froze scared of what it was. She gulped and slowly turned to see what it was, "Hey beautiful," it whimpered.  
  
  
Staring towards the young, naked, man her heart almost collapsed in on it's self. She held her breath, and wished that what she saw were for real. It was hard to decipher between reality and fantasy, it felt real and then it wasn't. Always thinking that the delusions would come back and forbid her to know if he was actually there. Just to see him again hurt too much, it pained her and relieved her at the same time.   
  
  
Her mouth opened but nothing came out. She blinked and took in a long breath, feeling a heavy weight over her chest.   
  
  
"Steve?" she finally whispered.  
  
  
He smiled and then rested his tired body on the floor, his hand still out stretched and laid on top of hers. The smiled faded and confusion seeped through, "Where I'm I?"  
  
  
Those three simple words were like a release; she smiled and began to laugh. A good loud laugh of happiness, she wiped the tears from her eyes and moved towards him wrapping her arms round his cool flesh, "It's so good to hear your voice again."  
  
  
He held onto her warm body so tightly as if she was going to disappear forever, and then he remember the events a few seconds before, but as he gazed out and around his surroundings he became more and more confused. He let go and looked into her face, "Why do you look like that?"  
  
  
Claire gently touched his face tracing his lips. His body shivered and she moved back, "Your cold Steve," she said holding out her hand.  
  
  
He looked at it and placed his into hers, he opened his mouth but Claire stopped him, "I'll explain it all to you," she gazed down his body and said, "But your cold and very…naked."  
  
  
He blushed picking up her jacket and wrapped it around himself, "Stay here," she said, "I'll look for something."  
  
  
He did as he was told and walked to the computer chair still clinging the small black jacket around his body. He gazed at his brunette, the way her body moved, the small creases in the material when she stretched up or down, and the way her hair laid by her shoulders some strands falling around her face and others lying behind her back in beautiful brown waves. He didn't realise how long her hair was, although it was up in a pony hair, it never seemed so long. Then her eyes were dull and tired navy gems, they didn't have that shine in them when she used to stare at him. Her face held so much pain and anguish, it made her look older and yet he couldn't understand why.   
  
  
Claire walked to the lockers, using the butt of the launcher she smashed in the lock of the first metal locker. She could feel the weight of his stare all over her body, he was observing her, studying her form. She smiled and turned to him, his exquisite blue-green eyes shone so bright. And he had a look on his face that she knew he was thinking very hard about her, in a concern way and more of a wicked way. She didn't mind, when they get out of this place she knew exactly what they were going to do when they got back to her apartment.   
  
  
He grinned because he was, in fact, thinking exactly what she was thinking.  
  
  
Two great minds think a like.  
  
  
The locker door opened, Claire threw the padlock to the floor and quickly scanned inside. She frowned as her eyes lay on a porno magazine; she rolled her eyes back, typical employees of Umbrella, perverted bastards. She kept on looking inside and found nothing much but a pair of trainers.   
  
  
She turned to Steve, "Catch."  
  
  
He held his hands out accidentally letting the jacket slide away from his body; she quickly turned back to the locker blushing.   
  
  
She moved on and opened the other two lockers pulling out a standard issue Umbrella uniform, a pair of black trousers and a black T-shirt with the Umbrella symbol on the left breast. She quickly walked over to Steve and placed the bundle of clothes in front of him.  
  
  
She turned to go, so that he could get dressed in private, but he laid his hand on her arm and stopped her, "Thanks Claire," he said.   
  
  
She smiled passing his wet head of hair through her fingers, "My pleasure," she whispered kissing his forehead. She moved back and turned round.  
  
  
"Claire can you tell me now what's happened?"  
  
  
She crossed her arms and sighed, "Steve," she said, "You might not like what I'm about to say," she paused taking in a breath; she had to tell him the truth. The whole truth. "You see Steve, back in the Antarctic you…you died. Do you remember?"  
  
  
Steve stopped dressing and thought back, even if he tried he would never forget that kind of experience, "I remember. But I don't understand why I'm here, don't get me wrong I'm more than happy."  
  
  
Claire smiled, "And so I'm I," she turned round not bothered if he was naked or not, it was something she had to tell him face to face, "Umbrella have been up to their tricks again. I'm glad they were, when you died they took samples of your DNA, mixed with the T-Veronica virus and well…they…they cloned you."  
  
  
His eyes widened as her words sank deep into his mind, he didn't know weather to believe her or not, but she would have no reason to tell him lies. He gave out a shaky laugh and sat down in the chair, "Déjà vu," he joked.   
  
  
Claire smiled faintly and walked to him. She knelt down by him and looked up, "So your telling me that I'm a clone and I have the T-Veronica virus within me?"  
  
  
She hated to admit it, but it was the truth. She nodded her head, "There are files Steve," she glanced at the monitor, he followed her eyes and met the screen, his hand moved out to her and she squeezed it tightly.  
  
  
"It doesn't matter where you came from Steve," she whispered, "You are who you are and you ARE Steve Burnside."  
  
  
His hand moved from her palm and slid round her waist, she felt solid, warm and very much real. He pulled her in closer to his body gently laying her on his lap. His eyes moved from the monitor and laid them on her, "I know I am," he said, "Thanks to you." He moved closer burying his head and face within her chest, he sighed gently releasing his warm breath over her skin. She cradled him, rocking her fragile boy within her arms. She kissed the top of his head and laid her cheek onto his hair, "I love you Steve," she whispered.  
  
  
He tightened his arms round her and sighed again, "I love you too Claire. Always and forever." 


	39. Coming To Terms

Kitana- This one's for all the Steve/Claire fans out there, I hope you enjoy it ;o)  
  
Claire Burnside267- 'P.S.: What did Claire mean when she was thinking about what Steve and her will do in her apartment? ;)'   
  
(I hope I don't need to explain that? If you get my meaning?) ;D  
  
  
39  
  
Claire took Jason's shotgun and handed it to Steve; he looked so exposed like a child who lost his mother. She patted his arm and smiled at him for reassurance, "It's nothing to it. Just like the Lugers."  
  
  
He laughed, it was filled with happiness and yet there was also a hint of sadness to it. He clutched the pump action and followed behind.  
  
  
Claire searched Jason's pockets for anything useful; all he had was the blueprint and a pack of cigarettes with a few matches. She took them, stuffing the cigarettes and matches in her pocket. She held the map out and viewed it. Steve leaned in over her; she could smell his warm scent, she sighed glancing at him and then back to the map. She needed to get into game mode. Although flirting around Steve was an option she really wanted to do, the main issue was getting out of Umbrella.  
  
  
Steve purposely leaned into her close; he brushed his cheek close to her hair feeling the soft texture of each strand. The cool air blew some of her hair into his face caressing his cold skin pleasantly. He quickly glanced at her to see if she noticed, however she seemed focused on the task at hand and so backed away slightly as if not to disturb her.   
  
  
Her hand caught his as if she knew what he was doing, "You're not distracting me Steve. I like it when you're near," she pulled him towards her, close enough to feel his warm skin against hers.  
  
  
"Now," she said, "If we go into there," she pointed to a metal door on the far side of the lab, for some reason she didn't noticed it. Maybe it was the excitement of seeing Steve again, "We can enter the security room," she smiled folding the map and shoving it into her bag.  
  
  
"Claire? How long have I've been a sleep? Has it really been five months?" She walked to the door turning round, nodding her head at the same time; he followed and moved up in front of her grabbing the handle. He pulled but it was stuck, he stopped and said, "When I was de…gone what happened?"  
  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
  
He faced her, "What happened to you? You look so tired and a lot older."  
  
  
Claire sighed and leant back on the wall, "What can I say? You were dead and I had a very hard time accepting it," that was an understatement of a lifetime, "You died and I survived, and I couldn't deal with that. I hated myself for it."  
  
  
He pulled again forcing the door to open; it creaked making Claire jump back and out of her trance. She smiled forcing that mask she used so often to surface, she didn't want to think of the past; it was the future she was after and that was all that mattered.   
  
  
Her future with Steve.   
  
  
He watched her pass and he could see the strength it took her to maintain her plain expression. He could sense her lying, but he understood why she would lie. Five months denying that he was dead would make anyone tired. But it wasn't only that, he could feel her essence, it was disturbed as if she was keeping something back from him, however he didn't want to pursue it just yet, she still hadn't gotten used to seeing him alive and kicking.  
  
  
He walked up and stood next to her frequently glancing into her face and then to the floor, "I don't suppose you came here alone."  
  
  
"My brother is here and so is another friend. There is also a survivor however everyone else is…dead," her voice faded away as the realisation of the amount of people that died needlessly.   
  
  
"So we're not in the Antarctic any more?" he frowned and confusion entered his handsome face.  
  
  
"No, we're in another Umbrella facility. After five months of searching we found it, well it found us."  
  
  
"Found you? How?"  
  
  
She squirmed, "Err, Umbrella used a mental institute as a front."  
  
  
"But how did it find you?"   
  
  
She stopped and glared down the hall at the door they were heading. She didn't want to tell him what she did to herself. Steve could see she was struggling with the truth; the tears were forming and falling down her cheeks. He didn't mean to push her so far, he moved closer stroking her tears from her cheeks away, "Claire?" he whispered, "It's ok, you don't-"  
  
  
She backed away from him roughly wiping the salty tears from under her eyes, "That's were you're wrong," she breathed feeling the veins under her scars ache, "I kind of went down hill after the Antarctic. When you were de-dead I had nothing to live for in my life," she pushed her hair back and avoided eye contact, "I-I…" it was getting harder and harder to tell him, "I tried to kill myself," she turned her wrists upside down revealing her attempted suicide.  
  
  
Steve's eyes widened and all he wanted to do was comfort her and whisper sweet nothings in her ear, he wanted to take the pain away, but it wasn't easy she would have to need his help. Concern and love spread across his face and he moved up, but she kept away, "I then started having psychiatric treatment, my psychiatrist, the dead guy in here," she pointed behind him back in the cloning lab, "put me on medication," she looked at him tears streaming down her face, "You know why? Because I started having delusions of you because your de-death took my soul. My life meant nothing without you!"  
  
  
He walked up gently pressing his body against hers, he cupped her face within his hands and brought her to meet his, "But something deep inside pulled you up from the depths of despair or you wouldn't of been here," he traced his thumbs across her cheeks and leant down to her lips, "You had hope within yourself to make it this far or what is the point?" he blew softly close to her mouth, "I know you Claire. Your heart and soul rules you, which is why you are here, now, with me."   
  
  
He moved a little closer laying his lips onto hers. She took the urge and wrapped her hands around his body trapping him within her embrace. He softly kissed her lips brushing his along the edge of her mouth towards her left cheek, he sighed releasing that warmth of his over her skin. He passed his lips up and kissed her eyelids benevolently cradling her firm body close. He moved slightly back picking up her hands and laying sweet kisses on her rough scars, he outlined them with his lips almost making the ache vanish.   
  
  
Claire lunged forward grabbing onto him with tight hands, "Don't ever leave me again," she gasped, "I don't know what I would do. I can't handle it! I need you!"  
  
  
Steve stroked her hair rocking her gently, "My promise to you," he whispered, "I will never leave you again. Never."   
  
  
He moved back lifting up her chin and smiled, "You ok?"  
  
  
She nodded her head, "Yeah, I will be."  
  
  
He wrapped an arm round her shoulder and walked towards the far door. He twisted the handle and pushed inside the room, "Let's get out of here," he said staring at the group of computers and monitors.  
  
  
Claire moved up and sat on one of the chairs. The security system was too user friendly. She clicked on 'Security Access' and up popped a window.   
  
  
'Enter security code' the red letters screamed.  
  
  
She pulled out Watson's I.D thinking if it worked in the elevator then it would work there. She typed in the code and pressed enter.  
  
  
'Security Access Denied'.  
  
  
Claire sat back and rolled around in the chair, she stared at Steve and shrugged, "We need an access code."  
  
  
He walked towards the screen staring at the small red letters, "Time to go in search mode then."  
  
  
She laughed slightly, "Yeah, but the question is where?"  
  
  
Steve put a cute expression and shrugged, "I wish I knew."  
  
  
She got up and walked to the door, she twisted the handle pushing the door slightly open. She glanced at Steve, "Well let's look around I really want to get out of here-"  
  
  
Something grabbed her arm swinging her out into the corridor, its smooth hand wrapped around her neck and squeezed slightly, "And why would you want to leave? Miss Redfield?"   
  
  
She struggled at his grip only to come face to face with Captain Albert Wesker, she flinched back only making his hold stronger, he grabbed her launcher crushing it within his hand, "Now, now Claire don't make this hard on yourself. You killed one of my best operatives that was a huge mistake!"  
  
  
Steve lunged out of the room and towards Wesker, but he was too slow, Wesker dragged Claire down the hall letting an angry Steve hit the wall. He turned round glaring at Wesker with rage filled eyes, "Let her go!" he said aiming the shotgun.  
  
  
Albert smiled and kept Claire close. Her hands wrapped around his trying as best as she could not to chock, she stared at Steve helpless. He adjusted his shades with one hand and frowned at the young man, "I don't think you should be giving the orders boy. Unless you want her to die, now drop the gun," Steve hesitated for a moment before dropping the shotgun to the floor, Wesker stopped glaring at the red head and sniffed the air from the direction of the boy, he grinned, "Ahh I know that smell anywhere," he sighed, "So you're the one with the T-Veronica virus."  
  
  
Steve clenched his fists by his side, he could feel heat run through his entire body, "And so if I am?"  
  
  
"And so if you are?!" Wesker scowled, his hand tightened round her throat as he realised that Umbrella gave an ungrateful boy a gift worth even life itself, "Stupid boy," he fumed, "You don't know what was given to you! You don't deserve that gift."  
  
  
Steve smiled, "And you do? Is that it?"  
  
  
"That is exactly right," he pulled down his shades just a bit so that Steve could meet his eyes, "You're not so thick after all. Miracles do happen."  
  
  
Claire gasped distracting Wesker's attention, he pulled her close to him and breathed in her scent, "Claire Redfield," he whispered into her ear, he tone had a hint of amusement and a hell of a lot of malice, "I've been wanting to meet you for such a long time," he played with a strand of her hair entwining it around his finger, "As for you, I have many plans, especially the part were I rip that pretty face of yours with my fingers."  
  
  
She could feel herself drifting away; her body wasn't getting enough oxygen. She gasped trying to get some air inside. Her eyes closed and she focused on Steve who was screaming and running towards them.  
  
  
"Let her go!" cried Steve, he was running and yet he couldn't feel his feet on the floor. He was up by Wesker, who thrush out his fist, Steve dodged it with incredible speed and agility. Wesker frowned not understanding how the boy was using his new found abilities so quickly; no matter he had the upper hand with experience. He dropped Claire to the floor and lunged away from the incoming boy. He could deal with her later. Steve ran up to him again both fists out stretched and ready for contact. However Wesker grabbed him flinging him inside the wall, Steve fell back onto the floor dazed and out of it.  
  
  
"You really are stupid! Boy!" Wesker said standing by Steve, "Such a great gift and you disgrace it!" he moved closer raising his hand high, "I despise you!"  
  
  
Something stopped him, a white hand wrapped round his wrist and dragged him to the floor, "Unfair Albert," it whispered, "You can't hurt my creation."  
  
  
He looked up and saw a young girl, too young to be Alexia but there were parts of her that reminded him of her, "Alexia?" he gasped.  
  
  
She smiled, "You should know better not to play with my toys," her hand tightened, her beautiful face frowned as she threw him into the security room door. She turned to the brunette on the floor and bent down laying her cool fingers on her pulse, "You are very lucky Albert. If she was dead then so you would be," she gently stroked the top of Claire's head and smiled, "Very lucky."  
  
  
Steve propped himself against the wall, his head was ringing, his eyes were closing and he didn't know how long he had to stay awake. He glared at the young version of Alexia; she turned to him still holding that beautiful smile, "Steve," she whispered, "Mummy's very upset with you. Coming out of your capsule when you're not ready yet," she moved to him and knelt by his side, touching his hair gently. Steve flinched but he was too weak to move away from her, "Bad boy," she whispered. His body froze he couldn't move, she scared him and if this young girl was really Alexia he didn't want her to notice him much. His eyes closed as the ringing in his head increased, he looked into her eyes falling back into a deep darkness.   
  
  
The girl stood up and glared at Wesker, he lay by the door shocked and dazed, "I'm not finished with you Albert. But I have things to do. So go like the rat you are," she laughed, "Because we'll be meeting again. Very soon." 


	40. The Truth Will Set You Free

Kitana- Hello all, ok this chapter (well the beginning) it going to be a tad disturbing and deals with suicide and stuff.   
  
And one more thing, err if you need me to answer any questions just posting them up or send an e-mail, whatever suits you I is ok with…  
  
By the way, I've got a question for you…  
  
Can anyone tell me what the 'S' stands for in Leon. S. Kennedy? I used Simon cos I didn't know…  
  
I'll be very happy for any replies…  
  
…ta very much! ;o)  
  
40  
  
  
The scent of flowers, perfumed flowers gently flowed through the air. Its soft warm smell was so feminine; it lay over his skin like a velvet breeze in summer. He only remembered this feeling, this wonderful sensation, when his mother was alive. He used to climb into her bed and snuggle up to her in the early hours of the morning. That same smell clung to her skin as her arms wrapped round her baby boy. That was ten years ago and he could still remember his mother's scent, even now.   
  
  
Steve opened his eyes and stared up at the white washed ceiling, shadows danced within the glow of the afternoon light. The window was open and that sense of summer entered through and covered him like a blanket. He sat up staring out of the window where the sounds of busy lives echoed. He smiled as the children played within the warm streets.   
  
  
It was nice there, he felt safe.  
  
  
The room wasn't small and it wasn't big, but the size was just right, a cupboard lay next to the bed, the door was open and he peeked inside only to see women's clothing. The bedspread was dark red close to blood; it was soft to touch and very silky. He laid his head down on the pillow and drew in that scent into his lungs and sighed.   
  
  
Claire's smell.   
  
  
He knew it was hers from miles around. The smell of her hair and body clung deep into the material. He rubbed his face into the pillow breathing in Claire at the same time. He turned round facing the ceiling again, happy, on top of the world. He laughed wrapping the sheets around him, it was her. He couldn't get enough of her scent. She was like a drug.  
  
  
No, it was love driving him to remember every tiny detail of her. Her hair, her body, her scent, the little habits, how she looked when she was happy and sad. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms round her body and lie within the sheets and think only about her.  
  
  
But then he wondered why he was in her apartment? What happened to Alexia? And Umbrella? He lay back frowning not quite understanding how and why he was there. He looked up seeing a young woman dressed in nothing more than her underwear walk into the room, she moved out of the shadows and in the warm light of the afternoon sun. And there she was standing by the bed gazing out of the window. The white net curtains bellowed gently across the cool wind coming from outside pushing her brown hair back slightly around her shoulders and neck. She stood with a sad expression almost holding back the tears. Steve sat up and smiled at her but she didn't respond, as if he wasn't even there, "Claire?" he whispered out.   
  
  
She turned to face him and there was no life within her blue eyes, only a deep sadness. She stared right into him but did nothing other than move back and walked out of the room. Steve stood up, running behind her, he reached out with his hand and felt air; she passed through him as if a ghost and carried on her way. Steve stood in the hall frozen; he stared at his hands, eyes wide and black. He treaded back gasping as if the boogieman stepped out in front of him. He didn't know why this was happening, why she wasn't really there or why he wasn't there. He shook his head breaking out of the trance and ran into the bathroom glaring around for Claire.  
  
  
She stood in front of her small mirror, which hung above the white sink. She leant down her palms on the edge and glared into the glass, her mouth opened but the silence cut deep within the small room, he watched her lips move, "I hate you," she was saying to the reflection, "It's all your fault!"  
  
  
Claire smiled, but it was so wicked and unpleasant it would shame the devil. And there it was, grasped within the palm of right hand a knife, a normal kitchen knife used for chopping up food. Steve lunged forward hands out ready to snatch the blade. She smiled again, eyes narrowed to her reflecting self, "But it will all change," she said tears falling from her eyes. She glanced at her hands turning her left one upside down revealing the blue vein under the skin. She gently stroked it with her finger.   
  
  
Steve fell through her, helpless to do anything but watch her kill herself.   
  
  
She clutched the knife tightly and laid it just above her wrist, "I hate you!" she spat out pushing the metallic blade into her flesh.  
  
  
Steve screamed as the blood flowed from her arm and down to the floor. Tiny, beautiful teardrops of red fell aimlessly in the air; they fell with such grace down and into his body, passing through him staining the white tiled floor red. Claire grabbed the sink smudging the smooth cool clay red. Her hand began shaking as her blood poured out like a river. She faced the mirror again laughing like a deranged loon, "This is for Steve!"   
  
  
Steve watched as the blade touched the surface of her right wrist, he was screaming to someone who couldn't hear, who couldn't be saved. She was doing it for him because she felt guilty for his life. He desperately grabbed her, but always failing at the same time.  
  
  
Claire switched the knife from her right hand to her left and quickly stabbed the tip in her flesh. She gave out a silenced scream falling back to the floor. The pain engulfed her entire body, it happened all at once making her scream and cry out. She hit the floor next to Steve and glared at the ceiling eyes dark and lost. Her hands lay out stretched bleeding, flooding the small room red. He knelt by her, feeling that sharp spasm that went through her body, he could taste the fear and pain on the tip on his tongue like poison. Her chest flinched as she tried to gain some air into her lungs.   
  
  
Steve sat in her pool of blood frozen like an ice statue hands covered in red. He sobbed falling head first into the sea of blood watching the one he loved slip away…  
  
  
Steve jerked scrambling to a wall, he gasped trying the best he could to reduce his heart rate. He wiped the sweat from his brow and came face to face with Alexia.  
  
  
She smiled sitting opposite him on the floor, "You sleep long Steve," she whispered, "I was wondering when you will wake." Her golden hair fell across her chest; she smiled again studying the young copper haired boy in front of her.  
  
  
"Alexia?" he breathed practically still in shock that he was back in Umbrella's facility.  
  
  
She straightened her back and glared at him, "Alexia," she repeated, "I tire of that name," her face changed, she looked almost sad, tired, distant and very childlike. The evil, the utter malice was wiped clean from her beautiful face, "Alexia is dead Steve," she grinned, "Mr Redfield saw to that in the Antarctic."   
  
  
Steve glared straight into her eyes, disbelief merged into his green-blue eyes, which made her smile more, "I don't understand," he said, "Who are you then?!"  
  
  
She stood up letting her white gown fall to the floor, her bare feet patted along towards him. She stood above Steve and curtsied, "I'm Alicia Ashford," she glanced at him, "Daughter of Alexander Ashford."   
  
  
His eyes widen. But he still didn't believe her; she looked so much like Alexia, every little line within her face resembled the ant queen. She knelt down by him and bent her neck to the side, her hair fell around her face, "It is a long story just like your demise and resurrection from Death's embrace."  
  
  
His face softened, almost understanding her situation, "You're a clone," he whispered.  
  
  
Alicia shook her head slightly, "Yes and no. I was not born, but merely made within a lab."  
  
  
"Where's Claire?"  
  
  
She stood back up and walked into the shadows of the dark room. Monitors laid on the right side of the room; he glanced up and saw a disfigured body sitting on a throne like chair. Alicia followed his eyes, "Father has been waiting to meet with you Steve," she stood close to the dead body.   
  
  
Alexander, or Nosferatu, lay still within the old seat, the hole in its chest was huge and the heart he had was clumped together in dried bits of red. Tiny maggots crawled within the hole. Steve heaved; the smell was another disgusting thing. It was like a thick fog settling inside his lungs like a disease, he coughed averting his eyes from the monstrosity. He was still wearing the same clothes when he died in the Antarctic, his hands were laid on the edge of the throne with deep round slits in the wrist were the robes were, his eyes weren't covered anymore, but he could understand why they were. He had no eyes, just black holes. The long fleshy extensions he had in the Antarctic were still here, however they were shrivelled up and lay limp to the side.  
  
  
Alicia held that smile; she gazed at the corpse as if she actually saw her father alive. The girl was obliviously crazy.  
  
  
"Where's Claire?" he asked again.  
  
  
"Miss Redfield is safe…for now, but she needs to pay for her deeds."  
  
  
Steve glared at her, "What deeds?"  
  
  
Some sort of surprise coated her face, "Why you should know Steve, you were there."  
  
  
He glanced back at 'father', "He was already dead!"  
  
  
Alicia frowned, she moved with nothing more than a swift of air; she grabbed his shirt pulling him up to the wall. She was shorter than him, but she was incredibly strong for her age. Her eyes changed colour, the blue seeped away leaving dark black eyes, her nose scrunched up, her eyebrows lowered, "He was only halfway there. The T-Veronica virus was holding him in a state of, shall I say…frozen-stasis. His body did not age; it only changed his shape because of the affect of the virus. Used properly and it is the evolution of man, just like you Steve. But in my father's case the virus only reduced him to his ancestral primal form, as every human has. Fifteen years he was imprisoned and it was only a few hours before the events within the Rockford Island that I had invented a cure! The Counter-virus," she laughed and the blue returned, she lowered him to his feet and turned to her father, "I had found the cure for the G-virus, T-virus and the T-Veronica virus. Still in its experimental stages I wanted to cure him and restore his long punishment into a victory for the Ashford Clan!" She narrowed her eyes, and the sensation of hot anger rushed into him, "But Miss Claire Redfield murdered him before I could administer the Counter-virus."  
  
  
Alicia twirled around running behind her father, she laid her head on his shoulder and laughed, a high musical sound, "She has to pay Steve, father wants it no other way," she gently laid a warm kiss on the rotting corpse's grey cheek, "Isn't that right father?"  
  
  
Steve clenched his fists, "Where is Claire?!" his voice was deeper and sinister than before.  
  
  
Alicia sighed, "That girl has clouded your mind son, you are no longer human, why bothered with her? She is weak, pathetic and a murderer!"  
  
  
"I am not like you!" he cried falling to the floor, "I'm not like you!"  
  
  
Alicia froze, "I am not like you," she repeated, already feeling his pain, "I am not like you mother." She walked to him gently laying her arms around his waist, "Why do you reject your mother?"  
  
  
He looked up at her, tears running down his cheeks, "What?"  
  
  
"Yes, I am the one who made you son, you are mine and I am yours," her face softened and there was only love for her child inside her eyes, "Why do you reject your mother?"  
  
  
He flinched from her cool touch and scrambled away, "Because you are not my mother! I'm not a beast! I am not evil!"  
  
  
Alicia laughed, "And I am?"  
  
  
"Yes!" he cried.  
  
  
Sadness and confusion consumed her soul, "Why? Because I kill? Humans kill, but yet in your eyes they are not beasts or evil! If that is the case then YOU are evil too! My mother's work runs deep within your genes, your blood! Everywhere! You are no longer Steve Burnside, but an Ashford."  
  
  
"No!"  
  
  
"Yes! You can't run away from your family any longer. The Ashford's stay together! Forever!"  
  
  
"No!" he screamed forcing the air to move into her, the invisible force shoved her into the wall; she fell to the floor laughing as loud as possible.   
  
  
She licked the blood from her lips and smiled, "You are learning son! The Ashford family resides within you!"  
  
  
"No! I am not an Ashford" the monitors sparked up blowing out and across the room, pieces flew into the air and into the corpse. Alicia stood up and moved closer to Steve, her hair blew around within her area as if a huge invisible tornado was inside the room; hot power encased her body making Steve back away from her. Her eyes glowed white. She glared into his eyes forcing his entire body to rise from the floor, "That is enough!" she said in her smooth and calm voice, "It is time for bed son!"   
  
  
The wind stopped, the heat from her body stopped too. Her white eyes died down and Steve fell to the floor, he gasped as his head hit the stoned ground.   
  
  
Alicia knelt by him, lifting his head to her lap. She stroked his hair; small spatters of blood sunk into her gown. She closed her eyes and sang her father's lullaby to her child while he drifted far away.  
  
  
Steve knew this was wrong and yet it felt nice, a feeling he hadn't felt for along time. And he could just about smell the sweet perfume of flowers from the individual above him, "Mother?" he whispered.  
  
  
Alicia gently kissed his forehead, "Yes my dear, mummy is here." 


	41. No Regrets

41  
  
  
Chris, Leon and Miriam wandered the lower level of Umbrella, Chris had problems concentrating, always thinking about his little sister way down below them battling who the hell knows what! Leon, took over point and let Chris take the back, Miriam stayed in the middle of them both always vigilant with her desert eagle.  
  
  
"There seems to be some power generators for the lower levels," whispered Leon, he glanced down at the map and then behind him, "If we plant one of the C4 then we can blow this part sky high."  
  
  
Chris nodded moving up just next to him; he gazed at the map and said nothing other than walk up to the generator door. His hand hovered gently over the metal handle. He took a deep breath and pushed it open.  
  
  
"What's wrong?" called Leon.  
  
  
"Damn blasted thing is locked."  
  
  
Miriam sighed, "Move over boys," she said.  
  
  
Chris glanced back and ducked away, Miriam aimed her gun, steadied her aim, closed one eye and fired twice. She moved in front and kicked the door in, "Done and done," she smiled.  
  
  
She stood still, "Well?" said Leon.  
  
  
Miriam grabbed for the door and pulled it shut, "Err, we have a tiny problem," she said, "There seems to be population of zombies living in there." The door tugged from her grip, Leon ran up behind and held onto her hands pulling the door shut.  
  
  
Chris paced back and forth, he stopped, "How many?"  
  
  
Miriam rolled her eyes back, "Hmm, I don't know. Does the word 'population' fit it?"  
  
  
"Ok," said Chris, "This is what I want you to do. I want you to open the door and run as fast as you can behind me while I throw this," he held up his grenade, "in there."  
  
  
Leon glanced at Miriam, Miriam glanced at Leon, "Ok," they said.  
  
  
"On my count," Chris held onto the pin very gently, he squeezed his hand round the small bomb, "One. Two. Three!"  
  
  
Miriam and Leon let go running back down to the hall; Chris wasted no time and pulled the pin throwing the small canister into the horde of zombies. Before they even had a chance the bomb blew thrusting them down and into the wall.   
  
  
"Is everyone alive?" called Leon huddled in a ball.  
  
  
Miriam stood up rubbing the back of her head, "I'm not sure," she winced.  
  
  
Leon laughed lightly at her, "Baby," he teased.  
  
  
She frowned, "Shut up Leon." She held her glasses in her hands, she moved them to the light and swore. They were practically broken.  
  
  
"Can it you two!"  
  
  
They both turned round, "I thought all of you were dead," called Chris, he was up in seconds hand wrapped around his weapon.  
  
  
Baker smiled, "Chris Redfield. We're heard so much about you. What a disappointment."  
  
  
Chris smirked, "Always happy to please."   
  
  
The two H.C.F men aimed their guns at them, "If I was you Redfield don't try anything stupid you'll just get yourself killed."  
  
  
He didn't let his hand down, nor did Leon or Miriam, "Three against two," Leon said.  
  
  
Baker turned to him, "My so you can count, but we have much more powerful weapons than you. So please drop the guns."   
  
  
"Fuck you," Miriam said through her teeth. Her hands were getting cold and very white due to the pressure of her hold. Her face scrunched up as she glared into the H.C.F soldier.  
  
  
Baker smiled towards her, he glazed down her body observing her uniform, "A nurse," he stated, "So you survived our little adventure."  
  
  
She stepped forward offended by his remark, Leon grabbed her arm and stopped her, "Miriam he's baiting you. Don't let him."  
  
  
She glanced back at Leon, her eyes were filled with hurt, "I know Leon, I know."   
  
  
"So the nurse has some life left in her," he laughed, "You grew up quite quickly, shows how tough you are."  
  
  
Miriam clenched her teeth trying the best to her ability to suppress her growing anger. But it was a futile attempt, her body was tense, her heart was a racing horse too far out to be stop, she wanted blood for those you died. She only had eyes for the man mocking her and those you died needlessly by his hands. Before anything she gripped the trigger pulling it back releasing a bullet. The small round object flew through the air cutting it as if it was nothing; it zoomed inches from Baker's head. His comrade stepped forward, but he stopped him, "So you have balls," he smirked, "It's nice to see the victim turning into a fighter."  
  
  
Miriam stepped up, hand still wrapped around the metal gun, her green eyes were dark. She was filled to the brim with rage and hatred, "Anger is a funny thing," she said, "You don't want to fuck with it."  
  
  
"No," he said, "I don't believe you should, however anger can also become stupidity. Don't you think nurse?"  
  
  
Her eyes widened, she looked down at her left arm.  
  
  
Red.  
  
  
Blood was flowing from her arm, she stumbled back glaring in disbelief, "Anger is a powerful emotion, used with skill it can be turned into a deadly weapon," he turned his head to the side watching Miriam closely, he observed her blood spreading out from the wound and into her white sleeve. The blood looked so deep than it really was, "You see, you have no skill, anger yes, but no skill. And it is why you are bleeding and not me."  
  
  
Leon came up behind her grabbing a hold of her waist; he gently lowered her to the floor. Miriam sat on the cold ground watching her body expel her vital blood. The pain ached down her arm, it pained deeply to move. But that wasn't bothering her; she couldn't understand how he shot her. She looked up at the smiling bastard, she couldn't hear anything other than the beat of her heart, like a rabbit being chased by crazed dogs, it knew it wouldn't make it alive.  
  
  
"Miriam?" called Leon.  
  
  
She heard him slightly from the loud sounds from her chest, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. She licked her lips, her face was pale, her eyes still dark and very distant. She glanced at Leon; he held such worry over his face, that she didn't want him to have.  
  
  
"Miriam?" he called again, but he knew he wasn't getting through.   
  
  
Chris was glancing from time to time at Baker and Miriam. Sweat ran down his face, "Is she alright?" he commanded.  
  
  
Leon shook his head, "I don't know!"  
  
  
Baker laughed out loud breaking the silence, "She's in shock. The poor baby, so she really doesn't have balls."  
  
  
Leon snapped glaring at the soldier in rage, "SHUT UP!" He quickly took off his shirt ripping long strips of material. His long muscular arms gleamed under the white light. His tank top covered the rest of his body, but from the tightness it was apparent he worked out a lot.   
  
  
Miriam smiled to herself; in so much pain, losing so much blood and not to mention the shitty situation they were in she seemed to place her mind in a different place. However looking at Leon helped think of other things than the pain.   
  
  
His right arm wrapped around her waist pulling her into the curve of his body. He gently sat next to her and pulled back her sleeve. She flinched slightly suddenly thrown back into reality.  
  
  
"Sorry," Leon whispered near her ear, "Bear with me."   
  
  
She nodded her head unable to bring herself to speak.  
  
  
"Whatcha gonna do Chris?" spoke Baker, "Two against one."  
  
  
Chris smirked, "Don't you mean two against two?"  
  
  
He shook his head, "You all would be dead by the time he," he glanced at Leon, "reaches for the gun. I don't think nurse could do anything with that nasty gunshot wound," he sniggered the last in spite of her.  
  
  
What he was saying couldn't affect her any more; her mind was too occupied by the vast amount of blood flowing from her arm. Leon's fingers were cool at the tips; he gently wiped the blood away, but failing at the same time.  
  
  
"Pressure," she whispered.  
  
  
He looked into her face, "Pressure," she repeated, "Put pressure on the wound."  
  
  
He nodded his head returning to her arm, he took a deep breath and pressed a bundle of cloth over her wound. Miriam eyes closed up tight, her other hand grabbed his arm squeezing him as hard as possible. He bore with her as the pain passed by. She let go of him as well as sagging slightly back against him, "Let's not do that again."  
  
  
Leon smiled, "I need to cover the wound or it will bleed."  
  
  
She frowned glazing at her arm; cold sweat ran down her forehead. Leon looked at her, she was getting pale, it was the blood too much of it was flowing down her arm and onto the floor. She quickly glanced at him and gave a faint smile, "You must think I'm a real baby."  
  
  
He shook his head slightly, "Nope, I don't."  
  
  
"That's good to know," she whispered, "Well if you need to cover it, this is the best time to do it before I wimp out."  
  
  
He laughed quietly, "Not you Miriam, not you." He gently grip a long piece of cloth and put it under the arm, "At least the bullet isn't in your arm," he only spoke to keep her mind off the pain, but it wasn't helping at all. He wrapped the material round her wound and tied it. Miriam released a high sound from her mouth; he looked up and saw her entire face scrunched up in pain. He wrapped the material around her arm once more and tied it firmly.   
  
  
Miriam sagged back puffing rapidly; he touched her forehead feeling the coolness of her. He didn't like it one bit, she smiled, "Don't worry so much," she paused sitting up, "At least I'm not dead."  
  
  
"Well not yet," she looked up only coming face to face with Baker.  
  
  
She frowned, "Oh it's you."   
  
  
"My I pity the patients that have you for a nurse," he said.  
  
  
Miriam ignored him only to reach up for Leon's hand. He wrapped an arm round her and helped her up, "Thanks Leon," she smiled.  
  
  
"Would you two please stop flirting," Chris fumed; Miriam blushed and stepped away from Leon's side.  
  
  
"So it's a stand off," Baker mocked.  
  
  
"It doesn't take a genius."  
  
  
Baker frowned, "No. It doesn't. However it's still an advantage for us."  
  
  
Miriam placed her hand in her pocket; her fingers suddenly come in contact with a cool hard object. He glanced down in her pocket and saw it, the grenade Claire gave her; she watched Baker and his comrade careful. Baker was on high alert, but the other didn't seem to notice her move. She took a deep breath and glanced at Leon, he looked too serious. He stared at the armed men with wide eyes. She could sense his worry, not only within his face and eyes, but in the way he held himself. He looked like a cat ready to move or act when the time came.  
  
  
Miriam decided in those few minutes to act out her mind. She stepped up closer to Baker. He glared from the corner of his eye to her, "Don't be a hero nurse. You'll just end up dead."  
  
  
Leon shifted as if to grab her, she shook her head pulling out the round canister, "Are you sure?"  
  
  
Baker turned round fully glaring into the young woman's determined face, "You don't have the balls too."  
  
  
"Don't tempt fate."  
  
  
"Miriam!" called Chris and Leon. She turned to them and smiled, her hand gripped round the canister, her finger played gently with the dangling pin. One tug and they would all become nothing but blood on the floor.  
  
  
"Get away," she called to them.  
  
  
They weren't moving, she sighed, "Get out of here," her voice wasn't that pleasant sound anymore. She didn't sound herself at all.  
  
  
Chris aimed the gun out to the H.C.F soldiers but backed up slowly. Baker didn't do anything, the nurse looked more than capable of blowing them sky high. However he prayed that she was bluffing.  
  
  
"I don't scare easy," she whispered sensing the arrogance in his eyes.  
  
  
His eyebrows rose, "I didn't think so nurse."  
  
  
"Miriam?" Leon said, she bent her head slightly and sighed.  
  
  
"When we get out of here let's go on a date," she smiled.   
  
  
It was a mask.   
  
  
She didn't want to believe what she was about to do.  
  
  
Leon's face softened, he only wished that her words would come true, but she looked so determined to release the pin that the only thing he could do was play along. He smiled, "That's a sure thing Miriam."  
  
  
She laughed quietly looking into his eyes, tears ran down her cheeks, "I'll be looking forward to it Leon," her voice was quiet, soft and he could almost feel it along his skin like silky cherry blossom petals.  
  
  
Chris moved closer, "Leon," one simple word and he was gone, he didn't look back just in case he would see her pain filled eyes. He ran as quickly as possible into the generator room.  
  
  
The door closed with a loud bang, shaking up Miriam. She wiped the tears from her face and frowned at Baker.  
  
  
"Well? Are you going to? Or not?"  
  
  
"Patience is a virtue," she said.  
  
  
"Not mine."  
  
  
"Yeah I wouldn't except that from a murdering bastard!"  
  
  
He laughed, "It's in the job description."  
  
  
She lunged forward controlled by pure rage, "Te boy a matar hijo de puta!" she screamed.   
  
  
Baker threw his assault rifle down in matter of seconds as the crazed woman moved towards him. He grabbed her pinning her arms together, "It looks like I win!" he sneered by her ear. His huge hands squeezed her wounded arm, he had no mercy for her and he wanted her to feel more and more pain. She cried out as his stuck his finger into the wound pushing in the material, "How I love your cries nurse," he laughed.  
  
  
Miriam calmed down; she used that pain and tried to turn it into a need to achieve vengeance. Survive was out of the loop for her, she knew it and all that did matter for her was to kill the murdering bastard. She began to laugh as if all this didn't matter anymore; she yanked from him gaining one arm free and swung her elbow into his face.   
  
  
"Not in this life time." She ran from his released grip away from them, the young cadet aimed his gun firing. Miriam had seconds to think and so she pulled the pin throwing the grenade up in the air and faraway from her, "This is for everyone that died by your hands!" she screamed in a crazed laugh, "Dale recuerdo al Diablo!"   
  
  
A bullet shattered into her stomach, she froze bring her hands to meet her eyes, blood dripped from her fingers to the dirty floor. Her body wavered within her spot and she fell to the ground in what felt like slow motion.   
  
  
The canister was falling towards them so slowly, it seems that they had all of eternity to run away from it. But Baker would only fail in his escape; even if they tried they would still die.  
  
  
Miriam gasped as her body hit the floor; she lay on her side watching the red puddle form around her.  
  
  
She closed her eyes letting death embrace her, she smiled and sighed. Her body relaxed and the pain in her gut and arm seemed to vanish.   
  
  
Her only regret was not seeing Leon again...or even telling him how she really felt.  
  
  
Her lips parted and she whispered his name quietly to herself as if it was going to make everything better. Her silent tears mingled with her pool of blood. She sighed once again and thought only about him.   
  
  
She stared at the end of the hall out towards the far door; Leon was behind it alive, she was happy about that. She closed her eyes once more and whispered, "Good...bye..."  
  
  
Kitana- God bless you Miriam! *Wipes tears away* I hope you liked that people...cos I did! 


	42. Sad But True

Kitana- And then there was Claire….  
  
  
42  
  
  
The white silky sheets felt so soft under her body, for a few seconds she didn't realise what had happen before. The softness of the bed was what mattered to her tired beat up body. She took in a deep breath only smelling the stench of death. It stung her nose and then she knew this wasn't home, but a place as evil as hell.  
  
  
Claire opened her eyes and met a white embroidered canopy; it hung a few meters above her in a beautiful loop. She blinked a few times adjusting her vision to her surroundings. It was dark, but there were a few candles lit in the corners of the room. The room itself was old, it had an antique quality to it and it looked so much like the rooms in the private residence back on Rockfort Island. She knew the room only had to be Alexia's. There were stuffed dolls in pretty white dresses on an white antique chair, a wooden dressing table with a mirror, but looking at it closely the glass was broken and scattered. Fragments of glass covered the wooden table in an exquisite shimmer.  
  
  
Claire shifted her feet and placed them onto the floor, the floor was covered in a soft black carpet. It seemed too new for the antiques, but it made the room that much darker. Her throat was aching and it felt hard to speak or even shallow. She walked to the vanity table stumbling from time to time. She used the posters of the bed and balanced herself. Her head was dizzy but clear enough to know that she was in a bad place. She sat on the small stool that came with the vanity table and looked into the shards of glass, her throat was red and patches of black were merging. Her lip was cut badly and her right cheek was almost purple. She touched it gently and winced, it was serious but not life threatening. Her entire body on the other hand was totally painful, just the slightest movement and the pain came in a quick sharp release all over. She sighed and narrowed her eyes closely at some shards of glass; there were drops of red blood on the slivery glass. She frowned and shifted in her seat.  
  
  
Claire glanced quickly at her surroundings again and suddenly realised about Steve. He was alive, but not with her. She cursed mentally because she couldn't remember how she gotten in an Ashford's room. This was beginning to be a regular thing, waking up in strange places not knowing how the hell she got here. It was really pissing her off!  
  
  
She stood up and walked to the far door slowly. Her hand gripped the doorknob and she twisted, but it wouldn't open. Claire laid her head on the coolest of the door; it seemed to ease the ache in her mind. She sighed almost feeling defeat. She frowned it was only a door! She wasn't going to be defeated by a stupid door! She turned to her knife and stopped in mid-motion. Her weapons were gone, and she knew her body didn't have enough strength to break down or even dent the damned thing. She relaxed back on the door and slid to the floor, "Steve?" she called out hoping he would open the door for her.  
  
  
"Steve? Anyone?!"  
  
  
The silence smashed into her like a millions bricks, she sighed again and glazed at the back wall. She wondered how Miriam, Leon and Chris were doing, hopefully better than her. And Steve, where could he be?  
  
  
And there it was straight in front of her on the wall, a painting. A portrait of a man in his mid-forties, he sat very proud man in the painting dressed in rich clothing. In his left ear he had a green gem and it appeared so familiar. His blue eyes showed such a commanding appearance, a person who knew what he was doing; his short hair was golden just like Alexia's. She stopped herself, reaching for the knob and pulled herself up. She walked to the painting examining every tiny part of it.   
  
  
Alexander Ashford.  
  
  
Claire stood close to it and ran a finger across the man's gem. She jumped back hearing a loud click, the gem was pushed into the picture revealing a small round hole. The wall rumbled slightly sliding away to one side revealing a bright white light. Claire averted her eyes from the strong glare of the light. She blinked a couple of times and turned back to it. Claire moved up closely into the room that was behind the wall. But it wasn't a normal room, but a laboratory!  
  
  
Computers lay on the far wall, the screens glowed with the Umbrella logo. A table or what really seemed like a metal operating table lay in the centre of the room with leather straps. Blood stained the surface, it was dried out but the red was still here, she didn't like the look of that. And she didn't like whatever happened there either. Then she saw a glass capsule of some sort, but it was small, it lay on a table to the far right of the lab. Claire walked closely to look through the glass and all there was, was a syringe containing a clear liquid.  
  
  
She backed up and moved to the computers, she moved the mouse and the logo disappeared revealing a menu. Claire clicked onto it and all there was were a few files dated back from a very long time ago. She clicked on one and up popped a window. It was a film or something. A blonde man was in the same lab she was in; he was dressed in a white lab coat surrounded by three other men. He smiled at the camera.  
  
  
"The Ashford cloning project is nearly complete, I Alexander Ashford has successfully made a clone from the genes of two Ashford's," he moved up to the back of the room to a chamber, he wiped the frost from the glass to reveal what was inside.  
  
  
A baby!  
  
  
"She'll will become a grand being containing not only the Ashford genes but also the Mother virus," he smiled then, "With the virus integrated within her D.N.A there would be no reason for her to be in stasis to allow her body to adapt to the virus. No, she will be born and will grow up with the virus making her stronger, faster, and more intelligent than any human being on this planet!"   
  
  
The camera cut off and the window disappeared. She scanned the menu and clicked on one last file. It was a written document by Alexander Ashford:  
  
'23rd October 1980: 09:00am  
  
I know she's only ten years of age, but I know her, her mind is more powerful than mine and I know that my time will be up very soon. I can't have Alexia taking Umbrella over, she cannot have it! I can only hope that she will not find out about Alicia, her daughter. If she only knew about me taking a sample of her D.N.A she would kill me now, even her brother would take pleasure in his father's death.   
  
Even though she is evil, her mind is precious, at such a young age she can out wit most scientists is amazing. However Alicia, my daughter, will be a hundred times better, now with the Mother Virus in her genes she will become unstoppable. And Alexia can do nothing about that!  
  
All laboratory assistants are dead, I saw to that! I must keep her a secret from all; I can't have her life in danger. However if Alexia and her brother get their way I will leave my child all alone that is why I left the chief of the project alive. Dr Anne Watson has proven herself worthy for this vital mission. I trust her to keep my creation a secret from all.  
  
Soon Alicia will be born, but she will never see her mother, she will never go to Rockfort. She's not merely my daughter but a miracle of science and the Ashford family will become renowned for this! I will be restored with honour!'  
  
Claire stepped back and released a long breath, Alexia was dead after all, however her daughter was somewhere within the facility waiting for the right time. She didn't know who was worse Alexia or Alicia. With Alexia you knew exactly what you're getting into but Alicia? That was a mystery.  
  
  
Claire froze and turned round, "Alicia Ashford," she said.  
  
  
The young girl grinned and then curtsied, "Claire Redfield." She straightened herself and her smiled grew, her blue eyes sparkled brilliantly within the white light. She looked a lot like her mother.  
  
  
"I've underestimated you Claire," she said, "I always thought you to be obtuse, but here you are in my secret laboratory."  
  
  
Claire smiled, "I'll take that as a compliment-"  
  
  
"You will take as I see fit!" Alicia snapped. Claire moved back, fear crept near her. See could feel the anger in the air, the girl seemed to have resentment against her, but she didn't know what.  
  
  
"Scared are you Claire?" she laughed, "I would be if I was you." She moved towards the metal table and placed her arms onto; she rested her chin on her hands and watched Claire. Her golden hair lay round her, it looked as if the strands were alive and they were caressing her skin gently. She smiled, "Steve isn't dead Claire. I wouldn't kill him it took time to resurrect him from death."  
  
  
Claire frowned; she could read her mind that was a bad sign. And it would be harder to escape, "What do you want?" her voice was shaky, she didn't want to sound weak in front of her but it couldn't be helped.  
  
  
"I want…you."   
  
  
"Why?"  
  
  
"Because you killed my father Claire," she glared; she stood straight and began walking towards her. Her white gown rustled against the cold floor, "Wasn't it you who shot my father in his chest? Wasn't it you who murdered him on the Antarctic base?" her soft voice was dark, empty; there was a sinister feeling of sadness and a deep rage.  
  
  
"He was-"  
  
  
"Dead?" her eyes was losing its blue colour, they seem to glow pale white, "No, he was very much alive. You see Claire with patience and time you can create anything. I, for one, did."  
  
  
She stopped and glanced to the far capsule on her right. Claire followed her eyes, "A cure?"  
  
  
Alicia beamed a huge smile, "Yes and no," she began walking again, "You see Claire it's more of a reversal of effects rather than a cure. However it hasn't been tested so I don't know what the consequences are. I realised that every virus that Umbrella made stemmed from the original virus."  
  
  
"The mother virus," Claire whispered.  
  
  
"Yes, you know your history. So basing my 'ideas' on that I created the Counter-virus that can reverse the ill affects of all viruses."  
  
  
"And what about your mother?"  
  
  
The room grew warm, as if a hot breeze suddenly appeared within the room just like that. Claire stared at the young girl; her eyes were no more that white orbs. She disappeared in a blink of an eye. Claire breath quickened, she really didn't like this one bit, she stepped forward glaring from left to right for the young Ashford.  
  
  
"What kind of person experiments on her own father?!" her voice was soft, yet it was apparent that she hated her mother. She suddenly appeared in front of Claire reaching out towards her. Claire was too slow to react. Alicia grabbed her neck wrapping her elegant pale fingers round her throat, "Well Claire? Tell me!"  
  
  
Claire glared down at Alicia, her body was overcome with fear and not only that but the girl was choking her slowly. She wrapped her hands round Alicia's fingers and tried to pry them away. But the girl was too strong.  
  
  
"I don't know," she wheezed.  
  
  
"I'll tell you," she pushed her back into the wall, "I understood my father made mistakes but she had no right to turn him into…that…thing! I spent my entire life figuring out away to help his brainless corpse breathe life again. And when I finally do, guess what happened?" she shoved Claire hard into the metal wall, "Can you guess what happened Claire?!" her voice rose, the pleasantness vanished.  
  
  
Hot tears ran down from Claire's eyes, "I'm sorry," she said through tears.  
  
  
Alicia laughed, a voice that belonged in a padded cell, "You're sorry?!" she couldn't help herself, the laugher grew, her hand tightened, "So I'm I Claire! So I'm I!" Her eyes grew blue again and her hand loosened but stayed were it was, there were red tears flowing down her cheeks, "He was the only one I had Claire. My mother, if she knew about me she would of killed me on site. My uncle, brother would of tried as well. I was weak! I couldn't stop her doing those things to my father!" she shouted, "I had to wait, for something! And it came in the form of your brother. I'm grateful for him and what he did to that…" she struggled with the words as the rage was taking over body again, "Bitch!"  
  
  
She stepped back throwing Claire to the floor as if she was some rag doll. She laughed, "You know I might leave him be. A life for a life," she wiped the bloodied tears away, "but knowing you Redfield's he would be back for revenge."  
  
  
"Why?" choked Claire, she laid on the floor glaring up at Alicia. The question was merely asking why? Why all of this, why her friends when she was the one she wanted so desperately?   
  
  
"Why?" she knelt down by the brunette and gently stroked her hair, "Because Claire I have debts to pay and you'll the biggest one," her face returned to that pleasant look, she smiled, "And well, your friends would be back to finish Umbrella off. And we wouldn't want that now, would we?"  
  
  
Claire didn't answer she only frowned finally feeling some ounce of bravery…or stupidity.  
  
  
Alicia's face scrunched up tight, angry reappeared in her eyes. Her hair began to flow around her as if she was moving the air. A deep forced pushed out from Alicia and into Claire, she screamed feeling a huge weight on her chest. Her body was being crushed by the wind Alicia was making, "Would we Claire?" the girl said through her teeth.  
  
  
"No!" cried Claire.   
  
  
The force vanished in that instant. The angry seeped away from Alicia's face. She smiled and patted her head, "Now come with me," she held out her hand.  
  
  
Claire stared at it as if it was something new, she reached out but also knowing it was a bad thing to do. However her body wasn't even listening to the screams in her head, "Yes Lady Ashford," she said.  
  
  
Alicia smiled brightly and helped Claire from the floor, "You're so much nicer like this Claire," she lead her to the centre of the lab towards the metal table, "I should of influenced your mind from the beginning it would of saved me so much time."  
  
  
Claire smiled, "You are correct Lady Ashford," Claire couldn't believe what she was saying, it wasn't her!  
  
  
"Now be a good girl and lie on here," she patted the bloodied surface of the table.  
  
  
Claire gently let go of her hand and propped herself up on the table, she turned so her feet went up too and then lay down. Alicia skipped round the table smiling, "I'm surprised Claire, my other victims resisted so much more than you. And I thought you were a lot stronger," she giggled. She bought the leather straps and wrapped them round her hands and feet tightly, "Seems I was wrong."  
  
  
She walked to a drawer by the small capsule and pulled out a tray, she walked back to Claire and laid the tray by her head.  
  
  
Alicia stepped back and scrunched her nose in a cute smile, her golden hair fell around her illuminating her beautiful face and blue eyes, "Now don't go anywhere," she backed away walking out of the lab and into her room, her hand touched the doorknob. She turned round to wave and then smiled, "I have a big surprise for you when I get back," she giggled and then she was gone.  
  
  
The door banged shut.  
  
  
Claire blinked as if she was waking up for the first time; she flinched from the light above her not realising what had happened. She turned to her hands and screamed. She quickly tugged at the straps crying tears of anger and defeat.   
  
  
She glanced up hitting her head against a small tray; she strained glaring into the metal container and screamed. There were surgical knives and other apparatus used within an operation. Claire sobbed already knowing what the Ashford bitch was up too.  
  
  
"HELP!" she screamed, "STEVE! HELP!"  
  
  
But it was no use; no one was going to hear her and even if they did Alicia was too strong to get passed her. She stopped screaming and simply laid on the cold metal surface watching the dried blood.  
  
  
Whatever was planned for her she knew, she was going to end up as dried blood on the table after Alicia was done with her.  
  
  
It was a sad thought, but a true one… 


	43. Bailando En El Fuego

Kitana- Well there's another one, thank you all of you who replied to my little question about Leon's middle name! Thanks!  
  
Another question, Claire Burnside267 could you tell me who did over or up to 50 chapters? Thank you for any replies!  
  
And CuiteCherry and Bloodlover all your answers will be answered in the next chapter and those of you who I've lost…so sorry about that, it's seems clear to me…maybe I should explain better in next chapters, but don't worry the confusion is normal all will be revealed!!  
  
Muhahahahahah *coughs* Yeah well, anyway on!   
  
Enjoy!  
  
  
43  
  
  
Leon stumbled forward almost falling flat faced on the floor. He was worried about Miriam just behind the wooden door; it took everything inside of him to stop himself from going back out to her. Chris dragged him along aiming and firing at some zombies still intact. He didn't want to do it, he didn't want Miriam out there either, but from the beginning they all knew they would die trying to destroy Umbrella, one sacrifice was enough to save many many more.  
  
  
More than the population of Raccoon.  
  
  
He shook his head and pressed on to the bottom of a generator, he had to think like that or he too would be running out in the hall to Miriam, she didn't deserved any of this, she was an innocent who gave up her life for them and their cause.  
  
  
Leon pulled from Chris's grip; his hand loosened dropping the shotgun to the floor. He went to his knees huddling his face within the palms of his hands and wept. He looked up at the door, tears streaming down his cheeks, he never cried like this before not even when Ada died. And he didn't know why. Chris watched him for a few seconds turning to the control panel. He smashed his fist on the wall in rage; it wasn't supposed to be like this! It wasn't supposed to an innocent out there!  
  
  
He swore at the wall clenching his fists and teeth together. He opened his eyes and glared at the bricks and sighed. He knelt down and grabbed his bag pulling out one part of the C4. He gently laid it at the foot of the control panel and set the timer.  
  
  
20:00:00 minutes.  
  
  
His finger hovered over the button to arm it, he wasn't sure anymore, he wasn't sure why they were in Umbrella. Was there a point to all this bloodshed? Wouldn't be better if Umbrella just had their way and blow this world to kingdom come? He was beginning to feel it should. No human was perfect everyone made mistakes, and no one is ever good. So would it really be so sad for the world to die in a ball of fire, death and war? He laughed in spite of all human beings, hell he was on this 'noble' cause.   
  
  
Bullshit.  
  
  
This so called 'noble' cause cost many lives, many lives that Chris Redfield stole by pointing a manmade weapon and pulling the trigger. What made him so 'noble' to take a life? Any life, either good or evil?  
  
  
Nothing. As simple as that. Nothing in this world is 'noble' or 'good' enough to justify means of killing.   
  
  
At all!  
  
  
In those few seconds he admired pacifists that embraced death willing, instead of fighting with weapons. However as jealous as he was about them, he couldn't fight without a weapon. He just couldn't, it was who he was.  
  
  
He pressed the button that armed the C4 and closed his eyes shut, "It's done," he whispered.  
  
  
Leon stood up without any thought of his weapon and ran to the door; he grabbed the knob yanking the door away from him and Miriam. He ran out into the flaming hall. He coughed as the thick black smoke surrounded him, the hall was hot as if he just entered hell and was standing in the damned inferno waiting for his eternal punishment from the fallen angel.  
  
  
"Miriam?!" he cried into the darkness and light.  
  
  
He heard coughing, a distant voice from the edge of the hall. He ran, jumping through the flames as if they were nothing. He covered his face and didn't stop until he came to the voice.  
  
  
"Miriam!" he cried again.  
  
  
"Help me," whimpered a voice under a piece of wall, the heavy concrete laid on top of an individual. Leon bent down waving at the smoke.   
  
  
He stopped and glared down at the individual. He grabbed their shirt and lowered his face, "Why?"  
  
  
Baker coughed dribbling blood down his chin, "Please," he finally said.  
  
  
Rage began building deep within Leon's heart, he didn't want to help him, he only wanted to end his existence, "Why should I?" he said raising his right fist high.  
  
  
He was ready to beat the man to death when Baker whimpered, "You're a cop."  
  
  
Leon froze and stared at the dying man, he didn't want to stop! He wanted nothing more but to kill him for Miriam, but he was right.   
  
  
Leon. S. Kennedy was a cop first. Always.  
  
  
He smiled down at Baker and laughed; "Sorry, but that just doesn't cut it!" his fist fell down towards the man's face.   
  
  
Baker screamed as each blow from Leon met his face, blood splat out onto the rookie's face dripping down his cheeks and lips. He didn't stop until Baker's screams were no more and that his face was nothing but a puddle of blood. Even looking down at the mutilated face he made with his fist he had no regrets. The H.C.F soldier deserved more than that, but he would get his dues in hell.   
  
  
He backed up from the dead body; his eyes were wide and black. He enjoyed every bit of killing him. God help him he enjoyed it. It made his heart pump faster and harder.   
  
  
It was…exciting. He stepped back away glaring at the smoke covered corpse.   
  
  
No regrets.  
  
  
"Leon?!" Chris came running through the smoke coughing, he held a hand to his mouth and winced, "Leon! Have you found Miriam?!"  
  
  
Leon blinked snapping out of his trance. Miriam! He turned to the smoke and ran into it calling out for her, he tripped falling over something. He scrambled to it only to see a man corpse. The comrade of Baker. He frowned and dragged himself further through the hall. He was feeling dizzy and tired; the smoke was clouding his mind.  
  
  
He coughed rubbing his eyes, they were burning. He opened them and saw a figure in the smoke, he ran to it falling to his knees, "Miriam!" he cried.  
  
  
She lay on her side, eyes closed, blood surrounding her in a deep red pool. He cried out to Chris for help. He placed his hands over her stomach wound and pressed hard. It was still warm, but she still could be dead. Chris came from the screen of black smoke coughing, "Pick her up!"  
  
  
Leon gently wrapped an arm round her waist pulling her into his body. He pushed himself off his knees and staggered away from the fire and smoke. Chris followed with his magnum and Leon's shotgun in hand, "Get in that elevator," he shouted out.  
  
  
They ran inside, Chris pulled the grate in front of them and pressed the button 'U2'. The lift jerked up.  
  
  
"Get some of the rags from the bag," called Leon, Chris rummaged in the bag pulling out the torn shirt.   
  
  
Leon laid her on the floor still holding her stomach wound in place, "She's still warm," he said, "Check her pulse."  
  
  
Chris passed that material to Leon and softly felt for her pulse by her neck. He looked at Leon eyes holding no hope, "I'm sor-"  
  
  
"Lies!" he wouldn't believe her to be dead, her laid her out, and propped her head back. He glared into Chris's face, "CPR," it was one word, which meant many things. He crouched by Miriam's face and opened up her mouth, he took a breath and covered his mouth over hers passing oxygen into her dying body.   
  
  
Chris started the heart compressions, "One, two, three," he said while pushing in her chest, Leon went back down, "One, two, three. Breath damnit!" he fumed.   
  
  
Leon looked up at Chris who had stopped the compressions, " What are you doing?"  
  
  
Chris averted his eyes, "She's dead Leon!"  
  
  
"No I won't accepted that!" he pushed him out the way and started the heart compressions again; "One, two, three," he gasped and then blew into her mouth.  
  
  
Chris watched him helpless. She was dead and the rookie just wouldn't accept it, "Leon," he said, "Leon!"  
  
  
He looked up, "Shut up!" He turned to Miriam but was stopped by Chris, he glared at him flowing with hate and anger, "Get off me!" he snapped swinging his fist towards Chris's face.  
  
  
The blow shook him up mainly because he wasn't expecting it; the force practically threw him into the grate. He cupped his jaw feeling the pain. He would let that pass for Leon was erratic, "She's dead!"  
  
  
Miriam gasped, eyes opening wide. Leon jumped turning back to her. He lifted her head onto his lap and stroked her hair back. She closed her eyes. Leon panicked placing his fingers on the artery by her neck feeling her pulse pumping against his skin, he glared at a startled Chris behind him and frowned, "Yeah she's really dead," the smack of sarcasm was so obvious.  
  
  
He relaxed smiling against her hair breathing that wonderful scent of hers, "This is all that matters," he whispered.   
  
  
Chris glanced at her stomach wound before closing his eyes; "She's still losing a lot of blood Leon," he stared up at him, "She needs a hospital or she will…" he cut off unable to say what they both were thinking.  
  
  
Leon frowned, "No! She's stronger than most people," he was deluding himself; "She's going to make it!"  
  
  
Chris stood up; he leant against the wall and sighed. He knew about Leon and the death of Ada, but he wasn't sure if Leon could take something like that again. He was still grieving. His behaviour towards most women he met was only because he didn't know how to show his feelings, that was why he was always coming on to Claire. The guy had issues and demons he couldn't deal with and now he would have to cope with the highly probable death of Miriam.  
  
  
Leon cupped her fragile body against his; he wrapped most of the material around her stomach wound to stop the bleeding. He stroked her forehead gently smudging blood across her skin; he frowned and rocked her within his arms.  
  
  
"Leon," Chris said, "I want to know if you can…deal…with this?"  
  
  
He looked up, shocked flooded his hazel eyes, "Deal?"  
  
  
Chris stopped the elevator, it jerked slightly, "Yes deal," he sighed, "Miriam is losing a lot of blood and I need you to stay focused."  
  
  
He frowned, "Focused," he sniggered, "You trying to tell me that her death is nothing compared to the destruction of Umbrella?!"  
  
  
Chris blinked and simply nodded his head, "Her death is worth a lot Leon, but you have to understand that her life is small to what Umbrella has installed for many more."  
  
  
"You bastard!" he spate, "You didn't see how Raccoon City ended up! So don't lecture me about who and what is important! Who the fuck are you to decide?!"  
  
  
That stopped Chris, Leon was completely right. It wasn't his place, he was sounding more and more like Umbrella or the H.C.F, who killed when it suit them for their means. He knelt down, eyes wide and sorry, "I'm so sorry-"  
  
  
"Get away from me and her," his voice was calm but it was the only thing helping him from punching Chris again, "She doesn't need your help!"  
  
  
Chris backed up, "Yes," he struggled to say, "You're right." He stood up and started the elevator up again. It jerked slightly moving up to the second floor.  
  
  
Leon stood up with Miriam within his arms, "I think it's best if we spilt up," he said, voice plain and expressionless, "I'll take this floor you take the third."  
  
  
Chris didn't argue mainly because the rookie wasn't a rookie anymore. He was learning and if they lived to survive this place, he would become a fine police officer and maybe make detective one day. The lift jerked to a halt, Leon pulled the grate aside and walked out, he stopped himself mainly because he didn't want to leave the aggression between them especially if they weren't going to make it. But holding Miriam in his arms he couldn't help but feel the anger. She was something to him and not even the world's death could compare to her parting. He sighed and released the anger.   
  
  
He faced Chris, "Good luck," he said.  
  
  
Chris glanced at him and nodded his. He passed the shotgun to Leon as well as another piece of the C4.   
  
  
He saluted, "Good luck."  
  
  
Leon smiled, "It's my middle name."  
  
  
He closed the grate and the lift vanished with Chris inside.  
  
  
Leon glazed at Miriam and smiled, "It's just you and me babe," he whispered kissing her cool forehead. 


	44. Crazy Doesn't Cover It!

Kitana: And here are the lover birds….  
  
  
44  
  
  
Alexander held his young daughter in his arms, her small hands wrapped round his neck tightly. Her eyes were closed but there was a lovely smile spread across her face, she didn't look no more than a year old. Her long golden hair fell down to her dangling feet. Her smile brightened as her father stroked her long hair.  
  
  
He moved back cupping her face within his hands, he held such a love filled expression that showed he was greatly proud of his little daughter, "Father must you go?" she said, her happy childlike look disappeared revealing a face full with sadness.  
  
  
Alexander sighed, "You know I have too," he said, his face changed to a beautiful smile, "And you also know that I'll be back in two weeks."  
  
  
Alicia laughed; her big blue gems shone so brightly, "You'll be here for my birthday?"  
  
  
"Of course and I have a big surprise for you then."  
  
  
"My present?!" she beamed.  
  
  
Alexander only grinned, "You have to wait and see," he touched her nose with the tip of his finger.  
  
  
Alicia pouted, "Oh please daddy, can you not tell me?"  
  
  
He wrapped his arms round her small body and laughed, "If I did that then it wouldn't be a surprise Alicia. It is only two weeks. Not that long to wait."  
  
  
She nodded her head against his neck and giggled, "Yes papa you are right."  
  
  
He kissed her cheek and settled her to her feet, her pretty small white dress fell to the floor just like her hair, she smiled up towards her father, "I'll be waiting when you get back father."  
  
  
He gently patted her head and turned round towards the double door, his hand laid on the golden handle. He glanced back at the small child and smiled, "It's only for two weeks."  
  
  
The young girl nodded her head almost understanding why her father had to go. She hated it, but there was nothing she could do, "I know papa."  
  
  
He turned back round opening the door. He sighed heavily and walked out closing the door and leaving his child behind him.  
  
  
Steve stood in the same room staring at the child, he knew it was a dream but if felt so real as if he could reach out and touch the girl. His heart broke for the young girl as soon as her father vanished from sight.   
  
  
Sadness seeped through into those magnificent eyes of hers, "Papa," she whimpered regretfully to the door knowing that he couldn't hear her or even if he could he wouldn't turn back.  
  
  
Steve bent his head almost feeling the exact emotions coming from the young Ashford. And he did know, but not as such a young age as her, but he knew how it felt to be alone with no parent. Like an empty hollow feeling trapped in his heart, sickening and nauseating, it just couldn't be discarded. He looked to the girl and saw the pure love within her, the way she frowned, the way her small body leant back, her eyes it was love and sadness mingled together giving him and her that painful ache in their hearts. She knew it was for two weeks, but she also had a sneaking suspicion that she would never see him again. She didn't like that thought, but it still ate away at her soul.  
  
  
For she was too young to help her father. Even if something was going to take him away from her…forever…  
  
  
"That was the last time I saw him."  
  
  
Steve opened his eyes and realised that it was indeed a dream, but somehow it didn't stop the ache trapped in his chest. Alicia sat on the floor next to him stroking his hair, he looked up and she smiled. A soft movement of lips.  
  
  
"I remembered I couldn't stop crying that night," her eyes were distant, "I knew deep down in my heart that he would never return to me."  
  
  
"How did you kno-"  
  
  
She smiled again, a bit bigger than before, "You spoke things in your sleep that no one knows about, apart from me. Also it's what the T-Veronica virus gave you."  
  
  
He frowned.  
  
  
"You see Steve, Alexia had the power of transformation. She had three stages of her transformation, but you have such a unique ability," her eyes shone lovely azure; "You can see things in people's souls and understand their pain. You saw a memory from my past."  
  
  
His eyes widen, "So it wasn't a dream?"  
  
  
She shook her head, "It didn't fell like a dream did it?"  
  
  
"No," he whispered, "I could feel your pain so clearly."  
  
  
Her face softened, "Then you understand me."  
  
  
Steve smiled, "Yes," he paused, "I don't like it. It's too painful."  
  
  
"It's only painful because you make it like that," she sighed, "If you can pull away from sadness then you can see more than pain and anguish. It's in your power."  
  
  
He sat up staring straight into her eyes. She smiled already knowing what he knew, "You find it hard to hate me now don't you?"  
  
  
"Yes, why?"  
  
  
"Because you understand why I am who I am, and who you are."  
  
  
"And what I'm I?" he asked, "I'm no human anymore and yet I am no monster."  
  
  
"You're an Ashford Steve," she stood up reaching out her hand to him, "I do not understand why you don't accept it."  
  
  
He took her hand and pulled himself up, "Because you don't understand me."  
  
  
She laughed, "Try me."  
  
  
He pushed back his copper-red hair and leant against the wall, "My father and mother died because of Umbrella. I died because of Alexia and you ask me why I don't accept being an Ashford?"  
  
  
Alicia face softened, her eyebrows rose, "You have a point Steve, but that is in the past."  
  
  
He pushed off the wall frowning, "Is that so?"  
  
  
She nodded her head, "Yes it is."  
  
  
He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, "If that's the case then why are you still on a quest for vengeance? That is too in that past."  
  
  
Alicia frowned, "You are truly an Ashford."  
  
  
"You didn't answer the question."  
  
  
Her eyes flared white; her invisible force zoomed towards him but didn't hurt him. It was only a burst of warmth that flow over his body, "I don't need to answer to you boy!"  
  
  
Steve moved closer to her pushing into the warm air, "Then who do you?"  
  
  
She narrowed her eyes and moved to him grabbing his shoulders. She pushed him back into the wall, "No one! I'm my own master! I do not answer to anyone!"   
  
  
"Like mother like daughter."  
  
  
She swung the back of her hand across his face, "I'm not like her!"  
  
  
Steve glanced at her wiping blood from his bottom lip, "Not much," he said frowning.  
  
  
Alicia backed away, "I'm nothing like her!" she screamed. She quickly ran forward yanking him to her, "I'll show you my mother!" She pulled him to her bedroom door and shoved it open pushing him inside.  
  
  
Steve stumbled inside, he stopped himself before falling, "Surprise!" she called from the door, "Now you can prove yourself an Ashford!"  
  
  
He glared up into a bright white light; there was another room, a laboratory!  
  
  
"Steve," whimpered Claire.  
  
  
He ran up towards her but stopped, something invisible and warm blocked him to her. Tears ran down her face, she looked so tired and sick, "Are you ok Claire?"  
  
  
Alicia appeared by her, "Of course she is Steve," she smiled, "What do you think of me? A barbarian?"  
  
  
He frowned at her, "What are you going to do?"  
  
  
"No, no, no Stevie-boy. The question is, what are you going to do?"  
  
  
"What?"  
  
  
She ran a nail down the side of Claire face, she didn't push in to cut her but she only did it to cause fear in the brunette, "So innocent you are Steve," she sighed, "Your hands are not tainted with blood," she leant down to Claire and gently laid a kiss on her cheek, "Well," she whispered, "Not yet."  
  
  
"Stop it!" he cried, "Leave her be!"  
  
  
Alicia moved up from Claire, "And I thought you understood me."  
  
  
"Same here, but I was wrong."  
  
  
"So you are," she smirked, "Come to me Steve and open your arms to the Ashford Clan."  
  
  
He stood back, "Never," he said through clenched teeth.  
  
  
She walked to the metal tray above Claire's head and picked up a slivery surgical knife. It shimmered under the white light. He watched her with narrowed eyes, "Don't be difficult Steve," her voice flowed across the air towards him like a warm breeze. He wavered and something inside wanted to see blood flow, to hear screams of pain and death echo out.   
  
  
He closed his eyes trying to push the voice from his mind, "Shut up!" he screamed yanking his hair, "SHUT UP!" That hot heat ran from his body in circling him inside a warm invisible ball. The voices stopped, he looked up at her and started laughing, "You can't control me anymore Alicia."  
  
  
She frowned, "You're a fast learner, but not powerful enough to penetrate my power," she smiled and glared at the straps that tied Claire hands and feet down. They unloosened releasing Claire. Alicia stared into Claire's eyes and smiled, "Here my dear," she handed the sharp knife to her, "Show Mr Burnside what you can do."  
  
  
Claire looked at Steve and smiled, her eyes were dark almost lifeless. Alicia stroked her hair and laughed, "That's a good girl Claire."  
  
  
Steve panicked, he sent out that hot wind towards Alicia but it only bounced back, "Claire!" he cried out, "Claire wake up! This isn't you!" he licked his lips, "Please Claire wake up! You can resist her!"  
  
  
She turned to him again and smiled that beautiful smile, "its ok Steve Lady Ashford is a nice person."   
  
  
She gripped the knife in her hand, she looked up at Alicia.  
  
  
"That's it Claire," her voice was that same soft sound, hypnotic, "Do it."  
  
  
Claire lifted the blade high in the light and plunged it down towards her gut.  
  
  
"CLAIRE!" cried a helpless Steve.  
  
  
Her eyes went pale, the brownness seeped away. Her smile faded into a plain expression. She glazed down at herself and saw blood, "Steve? What's going on?" She stared at her blood soaked hands, "Steve?" she whimpered glancing into his eyes.  
  
  
Alicia walked round to her; she moved her hand toward the knife and pulled it out. Claire screamed as the pain rushed through her.  
  
  
"Stop it!" he sobbed.  
  
  
"You could of stopped it yourself Steve, but no, it is you that had to make poor Claire here suffer painfully."  
  
  
Claire sat quietly, her body wavered slightly as the pain erupted all over her, "Steve," she whispered, "Make her stop," she glanced at him tears falling from her eyes, "Please," she begged.  
  
  
"Alicia!" the heat rose up around him, the computers sparked and blew.  
  
  
She laughed, "You can't pass through my power Steve. As hard as you may try to, you can not!" She held the blade out again to Claire, "Take it again my dear and finish it this time," she moved close to her ear and whispered, "Release that pain for good."  
  
  
Claire wrapped her bloodied hand around the red shimmering metal, "Yes Lady Ashford."  
  
  
Steve stepped back and closed his eyes, if he could not penetrate her mental shield around them, then he could enter Claire's mind. He concentrated hard whispering words and thoughts towards her.  
  
  
'Claire!' his mind echoed, 'don't do this; resist her mind stop listening to the voice that is controlling you.'  
  
  
He looked up at her and swore, he closed his eyes again building his hot power up and up, 'Claire,' he called out, 'You have to gain yourself mind back!' he relaxed letting his power flow through him, 'Please Claire I need you! Don't let her take you away from me again!'  
  
  
Claire turned to Steve and smiled. He looked up at her waiting for her to speak, "It's ok Steve I trust Lady Ashford."  
  
  
He fell to his knees screaming out her name. But she didn't notice, she pulled the knife high, "This is for the Ashford Clan," she cried shoving it down and into…  
  
  
…Alicia!  
  
  
The young Ashford cried out stumbling to the floor in pain. Steve immediately stood up and ran out to Claire. The invisible shield that blocked him was no more; he passed through grabbing her and pulling her.   
  
  
But she stopped.   
  
  
"Claire," he called tugging at her, "We haven't got a lot of time!"  
  
  
"I know, but…" she let go running to the small capsule with the Counter-virus. She picked it up smashing it down towards the floor. He pushed away bits of the glass and grabbed the syringe. She turned too quickly and wavered on her feet, her gut spasm sending out a sharp ache around her body. She stumbled but was saved by Steve's arms.   
  
  
He wrapped a hand round her waist, "Hold on!" he said dragging her towards the door. He used his heat and flung it out towards the door crumbling it into nothing more than a clump of broken wood.   
  
  
He glanced back quickly not sensing any movement from the crazed Ashford and they ran out. 


	45. Russian Roulette

Kitana: Ok this is going to be it for a while, I've been denying myself any studying and I need to study (God help me! I do!!)  
  
For the time being I hope you enjoy this and in a week or so I will have more for you to read and maybe beat that 50 mark! *lol*  
  
Anyway enjoy, as always!  
  
  
45  
  
  
Chris set down the plastic explosives; he sat down by it and sighed. Everything was finally getting to him. He just wanted to drift far away and never wake, not for Claire not even for Jill, he was too tired mentally and physically to do anything.  
  
  
What was eating him up inside was the fact that he was becoming more and more like…like…Wesker. That emptiness inside was spreading around his body like a cancer, choking the very humanity he had. He was sorry for treating Miriam as if she was nothing, putting ambition before life. Leon's words sank deep, although he did forgave Chris in his way the words were plaguing his mind still.   
  
  
Who the hell was he? Who gave him the right to decide? No one, he knew deep down he was nothing, only a pawn in fate's game. Expendable just like the millions of others outside.   
  
  
He wiped the cold sweat from his brow and released a heavy breath feeling a bit better, but not quite.   
  
  
Was he turning into the monster he sought out to destroy?  
  
  
Maybe, he just didn't understand any of this. Was he doing the right thing? He gazed at the armed C4 watching the glowing red of the numbers count down.  
  
  
Two minutes passed and he still gazed down at it. He shifted in his spot pulling out a cigarette. He placed it in between his lips and took out Claire's lighter; it shimmered with such a beautiful warm glow under the dim light. He was in an office, he picked it because it really didn't matter were the C4 was placed because the whole structure would collapse in on it's self anywhere.  
  
  
He smiled to himself and lit the cigarette inhaling in the black smoke. He picked up his magnum and checked the ammo. The empty golden shells fell aimlessly towards the cold floor making that musical sound as each shell smashed onto the lino. He rummaged in his pocket pulling out one bullet.  
  
  
The last of his ammo.  
  
  
He laughed and shoved it in, "Never a dull moment," he whispered to himself. He stood up rubbing his eyes and yawned.  
  
  
Puffing the cigarette he threw it on the floor stamping out the red glow and walked to the door. He opened it slightly peering out from the small crack.  
  
  
"Christopher!"  
  
  
Chris smiled pushing the door fully away from him; it smashed the wall bouncing slightly back, "Albert."  
  
  
The blonde man smirked, he leant against the wall, his eyes glowed orange, "It's been too long old friend."  
  
  
Chris's arms laid by his side, he was waiting for this for too long and he was glad to see Wesker again, "Been up to no good I presume."  
  
  
Wesker laughed lightly, "You know me," he said, "I love fun and games. And I bet you've been the goody boy scout as usual."  
  
  
This time Chris laughed, "You know me," he copied.  
  
  
Wesker pushed off the wall and walked closer; his arms were crossed over his chest. He held no weapon of any kind within his hands or on him. But Wesker never really needed a weapon, he, himself, was a tool of destruction, "I prayed to God for you to be here. I wanted to finish this off once and for all."  
  
  
"Never knew you to be the religious type. I always thought that you saw yourself as a god," there was hint of mockery within his words.  
  
  
Wesker stopped and simply smiled, "No one's prefect Chris you should know that."  
  
  
"So you keep telling me."  
  
  
"Indeed, oh by the way Claire says 'hi'"  
  
  
Chris clutched the gun firmly; he pushed the anger down and held a plain expression.  
  
  
"Still the same old Chris, worrying about everyone except yourself."  
  
  
"Jealous?" he beamed.  
  
  
Wesker frowned, he rested his arms to his side, "What? To be a pushover little prick?" his frowned faded away, "Why of course not Christopher, there's no fun in being like that."  
  
  
He ignored that and concentrated on his gun, the cold metal was warming up in his hand, "What have you done?" he was referring to Claire.  
  
  
"Me? Done anything? Oh Chris come now."  
  
  
"What have you done?!"  
  
  
Wesker wanted him to become angry, he wanted to fight with the real Chris rather than the fool that occupies his body twenty four seven. The part of you that everyone has inside that does the reckless stuff, the things that your normal mind wouldn't think of doing. And the only way to do that is to release a little anger. He gazed at Chris smiling deeply inside, it was working the young stupid man was falling deeper and deeper in his ploy.  
  
  
"I am a hundred percent gentleman with any lady," he smirked, "Especially with a Redfield as beautiful and very well grown as Claire."  
  
  
Chris stepped forward bringing his gun up, "Where is she?!"  
  
  
Wesker shrugged, "Around maybe," that was the truth.  
  
  
"WHERE IS SHE?!" yelled Chris.  
  
  
Wesker stepped forward, his speed increased with each step, "It beats me Chris! Maybe her ravished body is lying somewhere within one of these offices."  
  
  
He saw it in those orange eyes, he was bluffing, trying as hard as possible for Chris to slip up. Even though he was pulling his chain it was still enough to cause Chris's blood to boil.   
  
  
He was in the air lunging towards Wesker. But he was nothing! Wesker simply dodged letting Chris fall into the floor.  
  
  
Chris turned round, his eyes losing all humanity and it seemed a monster peeked through and smiled, "None of your powers," it sounded that some other being with talking through him as if it enjoyed to see death and pain...and blood.  
  
  
Wesker simply bowed, "One on one fight. I like that," he looked up meeting Chris's eyes, he smiled, "No guns."  
  
  
He dashed the magnum behind him and stood, "No weapons and no powers. Fine by me."  
  
  
"And by me," the blonde man hissed.  
  
  
They stood meters away simply glaring at each other; they were waiting for whomever to make their first move. The rage was still flowing through Chris's blood, boiling hot anger but he wasn't stupid enough to go against Wesker unfocused. No he waited for the former Captain of S.T.A.R.S to go first.  
  
  
Wesker stood as still as possible, he could taste the fear wafting from his former pupil. Not only that, but he could sense that Chris was somehow confident and finally glad to be there where they could finish this once and for all.   
  
  
This was the one thing Wesker and Chris agreed with.  
  
  
"We haven't got all day Chris. I have things to do and kill," there was sheer annoyance embedded within his voice.  
  
  
"Ladies first," Chris smirked. He was playing his own game and turning it around. That was one thing about Wesker; he liked to watch people squirm as they play his game rather than the other way round.  
  
  
He frowned showing his true anger and hatred for the Redfield and laughed, "I should of known how you work Christopher. You were my protégé. Enough of this!" Wesker moved before even Chris could think, and he was gone. Vanished.  
  
  
Something moved like a moving shadow towards him, he turned but was too late. The shadow shoved him into the wall hard. The shadow vanished and Wesker reappeared in front of him, "Oh my Chris, this is going to be bad for you," he laughed.  
  
  
"Shut up," Chris gasped, "And get on with it!"   
  
  
He jumped up flinging his fist into the blonde man but instead he hit air, "Stop using your powers! You promised!"  
  
  
The shadow laughed, "I promised? I never promise to anything! Nothing!" A hand gripped around his neck and lifted him up, Wesker's pale fingers closed round his throat squeezing the life out of him, "Ever since you walked into that office I knew you were going to be trouble," he narrowed his eyes, "Another loser in my group, another stupid pathetic fool to teach in that dump Raccoon," he stopped and watched his old 'friend' try and struggle from his grip. He smiled, "And then the miracle I have been waiting for came in the form of that mansion, Spencer's Mansion. I was ready to send all of you to hell, but no, you! You son of a bitch had to get in my way and spoil it all!"  
  
  
Blood oozed down from Chris's nose over his lips and onto Wesker's hand dripping silently onto the floor. Chris laughed, "Always happy to please."  
  
  
A low growl came from Wesker's throat; he didn't liked being mocked by this idiot. He clenched his hand and swung him round and onto the floor. Chris landed head first on the floor; he blinked up at the approaching man. He knew he was losing and would die if he didn't think of something quick. He scrambled away rubbing his neck, the pain still panged. He glanced behind and saw a shiny silver object.  
  
  
The magnum!  
  
  
Wesker was there before he knew it; he picked up the gun and checked inside. "One bullet? Oh dear this isn't good Chris." He closed the chamber and spun it round, "Let's play another game."  
  
  
Chris dragged himself up coughing slightly, he winced at Wesker and said exactly what he was thinking, "Russian roulette."  
  
  
Wesker smiled, "Yes, up the stakes a bit," he placed the tip of the gun to his temple, "Even this will kill me Chris, so no need to worry about dying just yet."  
  
  
Chris frowned, what did he have to lose?  
  
  
Claire, maybe Jill and not to mention his life.  
  
  
"Yeah it ups the stakes, but you first."  
  
  
"I wouldn't have it any other way friend," Wesker glared at Chris and pull the trigger.  
  
  
It clicked.  
  
  
"Here," he said and threw it over to Chris.  
  
  
"Why are you so sure that I won't shoot you?"  
  
  
"One, you are too honourable, you rather have a clean fight than cheat. And two, well I'm a hell of a lot faster than any bullet."  
  
  
Chris laughed, "Same old Albert."  
  
  
"Of course, now stop stalling and do it."   
  
  
He grasped the gun in between his palm and gazed at it. What was he doing? Was it his manly pride and bravado getting the better of him, or was it just that for once he wanted to prove he was better than Wesker? It didn't matter what the reason was, all that did matter was if he was going to go through with it.  
  
  
He spun the barrel.  
  
  
The cool metal felt refreshing against the pumping artery in his temple. His finger tensed over the trigger.  
  
  
It clicked.  
  
  
His heart stopped, his entire body stopped for a mere fraction of a second as he contemplated what he just did. And deep down it was invigorating, different and very strange that he brushed passed death and not get taken. Cold sweat ran down his face and mingled with his blood. He breathed out and glanced at his foe, "Your up," he said holding out the gun.  
  
  
Wesker walked up to him and took the metal object, "How do I know you won't shoot me?" asked Chris.  
  
  
He laughed, "Because it wouldn't be any fun if you died just like that. You need to suffer Chris longer than a second."  
  
  
He laid the gun onto his temple and simply pulled the trigger, he did it as if it was nothing to him, as if he knew that he wasn't going to get the bullet.  
  
  
Wesker smiled, "That wasn't so bad," he smirked, "It's your turn," he threw the gun up in the air.  
  
  
Chris caught it; Wesker was taking this too lightly.   
  
  
But why?  
  
  
Unless…unless he knew where the bullet would be.   
  
  
But how? Chris glanced up at the blonde man.  
  
  
"Are you scared Chris?" he mocked, "Can't go through with it?"  
  
  
Chris moved the gun back by his head, "No, just cautious," he looked up and glared. Wesker seemed so sure of himself, it was unnerving. There was a look in his eyes that knew he'd already won even though Chris didn't do anything yet. He stopped, and he finally listened to that distant voice in his mind. The voice of reasoning, it was telling him never to trust Wesker. Not even if the game seemed fair.  
  
  
He clutched the butt tightly; cold sweat ran down the side of his face and mingled within his blood. Something was wrong, really wrong.  
  
  
He closed his eyes and licked his lips pressing the nozzle of the gun into his head.   
  
  
He quickly opened his eyes and fired…  
  
  
…The gun went off…   
  
  
Wesker staggered back and fell to his knees. Blood was splattered across his face, his orange-yellow eyes seemed to dull down, he held a shocked filled expression.   
  
  
Chris walked up to his Captain and smiled down at him, "In the end is doesn't even matter," he spate.  
  
  
He turned round to walk away; he didn't feel saddened or empty with this death. He was one person he didn't care to see again.   
  
  
The blonde man fell forward towards his face, blood gushed from the bullet wound from his head. It poured out and around his face drowning him in a sea of red. He didn't care but to stare up as the young Redfield he hated so much walked away.  
  
  
Chris had won and he had lost.  
  
  
The stage was set and the finally curtain drawn to a close. 


	46. The Endless Waiting

Kitana- Hey everyone, it's been a while! Yeah I know…Hope everyone is good and all! Anyway to the story…  
  
  
46  
  
Leon grabbed the medic kit from the wall and torn the lid open. He sighed releasing a long heavy breath; he took out the available medical supplies and rushed towards Miriam. She was pale, but her warmth was still lingering. She was a fighter and death wasn't going to take her from him so easily. He gently torn Miriam's dress with the scissors provided and settled the wads of bandages onto her wound. He torn some surgical tape and closed the bandages. He glanced back inside the kit and came away with a small injection.   
  
  
"Inject…that…in…my…arm."  
  
  
Leon looked up and met her eyes. He pulled the cover off and took her arm quickly inserting the thin small needle into her vein. She gasped settling back into the wall, "I'm surprised," she whispered.  
  
  
"Of what?" asked Leon, he pulled the needle away and tossed it aside.  
  
  
"Being alive of course."  
  
  
Leon looked up and straight into her beautiful green eyes. He stroked the side of her face feeling the cool sweat that ran down her skin, "I'm not," he simply said.  
  
  
Miriam strained a smile but the pain wasn't taken so much away from the painkiller, "You think so highly of me Leon," she said, "I'm scared I might disappoint you."  
  
  
This time Leon smiled, the worry and hated seemed to drain away from his young face, "You will never disappoint me Miriam," he cupped her hand, "Never."  
  
  
He let go sitting away, he moved the C4 in front of their view and stared at it, "What's wrong?"  
  
  
He fingered the top and then stopped punching in the code to arm the bomb, "Nothing," he replied pushing it back to the base of the wall, "Nothing at all."   
  
  
He moved round Miriam gently and very slowly wrapping his arms round her, her body tensed slightly aware of him and the pain that would follow from moving. He moved closer into her and whispered into her ear, "On my count," he shifted back just a bit to see her properly, "One, two, three," he quickly lifted her up in his arms.   
  
  
Miriam cursed and gasped as the pain ran through her every nerve, she frowned, "If we survive this we still on for that date?"  
  
  
Leon hugged her closer to his body. He grinned, "No doubt about it babe."  
  
  
She laughed quietly and slowly for another attempt of moving was not an option she wanted to take, "Good," she simply whispered.  
  
  
Leon swiftly but gently moved to the door, the shotgun was strapped around his chest, but it was something he didn't want to do. He needed it in his hands, but with Miriam unable to walk it had to be there.  
  
  
"Did…Claire and Mike come back?"  
  
  
He shook his head slightly as they moved down the corridor and to the elevator.  
  
  
"Do you know if they," she paused letting a sharp pang pass, she opened her eyes and blew out a long breath, "have accessed the security system?"  
  
  
He glanced down and shook his again.  
  
  
"Leon stop."  
  
  
"What?" he said.  
  
  
"I want you to stop."   
  
  
He did, "Why?" he stared at her face filled with confusion.  
  
  
"I want you to leave me here," he was about to object, but there was something in her face that just wouldn't let him, "and you go and find Claire."  
  
  
He frowned, "No!"  
  
  
"Leon, no matter what we need to get out of here and I'm just weighing you down. So if you go and find Claire then we can get out."  
  
  
His face stayed angry, confused. Miriam smiled; she reached out gently touched his face. Her hand was warm and pleasing, it was enough to melt the anger away from his heart, "Leon, listen to me," she said, "Leave me in one of these offices. You go and find out about the security system and Claire and then return for me."  
  
  
He leant into her hand rubbing his cheek across her soft skin, "I can't Miriam, this isn't safe! You aren't safe! We only have one weapon-"  
  
  
"Exactly! And with you carrying me we will both die," she winced slightly, "Please Leon don't argue with me anymore and go."  
  
  
He hesitated, his body tensed, he didn't want to leave her again. The last time she nearly blew herself up for the sake of his life. He gently kissed the inside of her palm, closed his eyes and sighed.  
  
  
"How much more time is left before this place goes up in flames?"  
  
  
"Ten minutes," he whispered.  
  
  
"Just do this Leon," she whispered, "I don't have anymore grenades so you'll be safe to know that I won't blow myself up again," she laughed.  
  
  
He reopened his eyes and glazed at her, he smiled, "Ok," he reluctantly said, "But you don't move at all."  
  
  
She laughed again, "Oh and exactly where I'm I going to go like this?"  
  
  
He moved closer to her laying his lips on her forehead and kissed her cool skin. He moved back and walked to the nearest room near the elevator. He opened the door and rushed inside, "Ok, I'll be back in a few minutes!"  
  
  
He gently laid her down at the back of the room on the floor. He moved to his shotgun and began to take it off.  
  
  
"Leon no! You're out there where you need it! Don't be stupid!"  
  
  
He pushed his sweat soaked hair and sighed, "Always levelled headed you are."  
  
  
"Well someone has to be or we're all fucked!"  
  
  
"I hope you don't kiss your mother with that mouth," he laughed.  
  
  
"Would you just go!" she smiled, "Go! Before I change my mind!"  
  
  
He backed up not able to remove his eyes from her, he knew this was wrong, but what other choice did they have?  
  
  
He quickly turned to the door and ran out closing it behind him.   
  
  
Miriam slumped to the floor; she winced as the pain came to her in waves of pangs. She was putting on a show just for him; it was the only way he was going to go. She really didn't want him too, dying alone wasn't something she wanted, but for survival it had to be. She huddled quietly in a small ball waiting ever so patiently for the pain to subside.  
  
  
The door cracked open slightly, Miriam looked up to see Leon walk in, but nothing happened. The pain was too much to care, but she knew she had too. Others apart from Leon lurked out there, either it be human or not. She hoped it was human.   
  
  
The door moved again, opening wider. She huddled herself together more tightly praying that whatever it was would just vanish. She squeezed her eyes shut and kept saying over and over again that is wasn't true and it was her imagination. Something touched her hair, her body froze she didn't dare risk to look up and see what it was.   
  
  
It sniffed her hair and then suddenly stopped.  
  
  
Her eyes opened and there is was a green animal looking straight at her as if she was meat. It was completely hideous; its skin was almost scaly like that of a lizard. But one of its arms was gone, ripped off completely leaving only a huge red wound. Blood ran down its side and to the floor creating a pattern of red along side it. The other arm looked intact it was long and was dragged by it, and then there was the black claws covered in what seemed fresh blood. It's snarled at her revealing sharp red teeth, blood dribbled down its mouth and down its skin.  
  
  
Her breath quickened; her heart raced like a wild horse. It moved closer to her, her body flinched slightly causing a small low snarl to escape from the monster. Miriam held her breath as the huge thing leant close to her. It sniffed her hair dripping blood and saliva into it. Its smell was rank, a mixture of copper and death. Its small beady eyes glared at her as if she was an enemy of some sort.  
  
  
But all it did was smell the air around her; it leant in closer to her hands, which covered her gut. Blood showed just under the material. It sniffed her hands gently pushing out cool air over her skin, her body tensed and the beast seemed to sense that as if it lingered along the air like a bad smell. But it did nothing at all, it simply moved back from her and melted into the shadows, however the heavy breathing rang through the silence it stayed where it was and simply watched, studied, but never attacked.  
  
  
Miriam released her tension and huddled closer into a ball even if it made her body ache, there was nothing she could do, she had no weapon and the only thing that seemed to reassure her with huddling. Strange but it did relax her slightly. Silence hot tears ran down her cheeks and pitter-patted onto the cold floor, she didn't want to die alone, she didn't want to die in a room with a beast ready to take a little bit out of her for curiosity sake.  
  
  
She wanted Leon, and in those few seconds she felt sick to her stomach but more to the point weak. Why did she need Leon all the time? Couldn't she deal with it? No, just because of one simple and truthful answer. She didn't have a weapon. Maybe if she did and she wasn't losing blood or in so much pain, she could definitely deal with the quiet lurking beast.   
  
  
She cursed mentally, if she just said 'no' to an extra shift maybe she would be home instead of lying on a really ice cold floor bleeding to death. But if she never said 'yes', then she would never of met Leon.  
  
  
Miriam laughed bitterly at herself, which would she choose? Death, but with the exception of meeting Leon or sitting in front of the T.V depressed and almost hating her life completely?  
  
  
Most people would choose the latter, but not Miriam, even if death was imminent it almost didn't make her care. And she kind of finally admitted to herself that deep down somewhere inside of her she loved Leon. Time didn't matter one bit, call it love at first sight, but it was more than that and even though she had only known him for a few hours it felt longer than that. She felt like a schoolgirl having a crush, but it wasn't like that, there was a knowledge deep within her that was so absolute that filled her body with understanding. This feeling never came with a simple 'crush'.  
  
  
And besides Leon responded to her just as she did…  
  
  
…Her life was in the hands of fate and it was fate that would choose if she was to stay for the final act…  
  
  
Kitana- Forgive me if this is getting repetitive, Miriam is either going to die or not. I do apologise for the lameness that it is today, I just didn't know what to write and I was racking my brain over it! Anyway not to worry the next chapter will be much better…  
  
I promise!  
  
PS: err I might add some changes to this chapter later on, so sorry for any confusion you might get!! 


	47. The Lurking Beast

Kitana: Hello all it's been awhile huh?! That's a hell yeah….well it's been hard thinking up stuff and I kinda had this done for a well but wasn't sure to put it up. Hopefully after this one I will have the next chapter completed and posted up in no time…  
  
Well I hope everyone's well and as always I hope you enjoy this part!  
  
;o)  
  
  
47  
  
  
Claire and Steve raced down the hall with all their might; Claire pushed herself, her entire body let alone mind to move. However it was costing her a lot. Her blood was flowing over her hands, which covered her wound. Her mind was frantic with fear, real fear, she was scared of Alicia. Such a young soul with so much power was deadly; Claire only felt the surface of that dark power. The girl had problems and Claire was the major one of them all.   
  
  
If Claire died then the nightmare would finally be over. She thought about it hard, she even considered it for a moment, but one look from Steve told her things that even she couldn't comprehend.  
  
  
"She will kill us all Claire if she was to gain her revenge. Don't even think about it," he panted, his arms tightened around her waist and she could feel something warm about him. A warm air seemed to flow through him and over her. He was protecting her with what power he had. And just then she felt ashamed for leaning to the edge of defeat. There was something in the way he held her, as if he knew and understood what she felt, no words could describe it, it was just a good feeling, an understanding feeling.  
  
  
With no weapons and only Steve's power that really couldn't match that of Alicia's all hope seemed lost, not if Claire's strike was true. They slowed down, one because Claire was near to falling on the floor, two, they were breathless and tiredness was pulling at them and three, well they didn't know where the hell they were going.   
  
  
Claire glanced back, her face was pale, her small fragile body was shaking, she was doing everything she could to not collapse. The pain that ached and panged from her wound was a blessing in disguise it made her move, made her feel that she wasn't useless or dead yet. That there was some fight still left in her.  
  
  
"Claire?" Steve whispered softly, he touched her shoulder and she jumped, flinching away from him. She glared at him, eyes wide and scared, "Claire," he said again hands down by his side, "We need to go up."  
  
  
She watched him and looked towards her and there it was the elevator. They had been running but she didn't realise that they were so close to freedom. They moved up to it however Claire stopped, "We don't have the code Steve. If we don't have the code we're all dead."  
  
  
He walked back to her reaching out his hand, "Trust me I know what it is."  
  
  
She watched him not really understanding how, her body tensed and her breath quickened. She nearly fell only to push that feeling away and move on! It didn't matter how he knew, if they survive this ordeal she would only have to ask how. She took his hand and they were running again to the elevator.   
  
  
Steve spent no time at all dawdling, and it was a big step from the other Steve. He seemed more mature grownup. It was her who was the focused one back in the Antarctic and he the victim. But now the roles had changed she the victim and Steve the enforcer, the protector.  
  
  
He smiled gently, "I had to grow up Claire. I'm not failing you again."  
  
  
He did it again, used his strange power to read her mind, she wasn't fond of it, but it wasn't a great time either to discuss it. He placed his fingers on the point were the two metal doors came together. Claire leant back on the wall, eyes closed and almost huddling into a ball, "Why don't you just call for the lift," she whimpered face filled with pain.  
  
  
"Because I can sense her," he admitted, "She's still alive."  
  
  
Claire glanced up, eyes dark and wide, face showing pure utter shock, "How? That was a deadly blow."  
  
  
He pushed the metal doors apart frantically, his body tensed as he worked his muscles into moving the heavy doors away. He moved in slightly peering up. It was dark and yet he could see it as if the sun shone down. The lift was way high above and right on the side was a metal ladder. He looked at Claire and saw that she was in a lot of pain; she was doing her best to keep a brave face for him and herself. She was a stubborn woman and also an independent one too.   
  
  
"She was never a human, her entire body it bound with the Mother-virus. She was the first and you could say the mother of the beasts. I can feel her essence almost feel her heart beating on my tongue. She is alive."  
  
  
Claire moved up and passed Steve into the shaft, his warm power brushed against her skin slightly, it was a pleasing feeling. One that she would love to feel again. She released her left hand from over her wound and gripped the metal ladder. It was going to very painful and difficult to move, but that was the price to pay to see life again.  
  
  
Steve scanned the hall and vanished into the darkened shaft climbing the ladder behind Claire.   
  
  
"How are you doing?"  
  
  
That almost made her laugh because it was a stupid question, "Peachy," she strained to say.  
  
  
He could hear and feel her pain, but there was nothing he could do but watch over her. The deep smell of blood lingered around him, it was Claire's blood, and its sweet metallic scent was arousing as if a part of him enjoyed the taste of fresh blood and meat. To hunt down his prey and sink teeth and claws into that warm flesh, just to rip the soft meat from bone, and just simply to drink the gushing blood. He shook his head pushing that strange thought away. He was thinking of her as…as…food! He quickly gained his focus back, but it was hard with every moment smelling and almost tasting her blood in the air.  
  
  
Something giggled, a soft light voice within his head. She was contacting him with her mind. And he knew in that second it was Alicia causing that deep dark part of him to surface. He frowned and glanced up at Claire, she climbed, barely. He looked down in the shaft simply feeling Alicia faraway. Steve concentrated, thrusting that deep power from his body tightening that invisible shield around them. He was trying to block Alicia's powers, the word here being 'trying', however Alicia was a masterful girl with her own power. If she wanted she could will his power away, tearing the seams of that invisible warn shield and enter their minds.  
  
  
But he knew her better than that, she was a child at heart and her toys were escaping from her. She wanted to play, slowly breaking down their chances of escaping as well as their sanity and then destroy them with nothing more than a thought. Sick that she was it didn't matter one bit; the major question was, when would she come? Sooner rather than later she would want to see the fear in their eyes as their blood fall to the floor.  
  
  
Alicia pushed out that soft laugher with her mind and just then he saw her standing, blood absorbing back into her skin, her wound sealing up again with no tear or mark left behind. Her golden hair grew lighter as if it shone white, her eyes were nothing more but white orbs glowing greatly in that darkness. A small smile spread onto her lips, and she knew where they were, just as he could see her, she most definitely saw him.  
  
  
'You can't run forever Steve,' she whispered, 'I'm coming to claim you and destroy that bitch!'  
  
  
The image vanished suddenly, and her last words left a deep hole in him, fear began to grow steady and for the first time he wondered if they could truly do it this time without a death happening. But as he stared up at Claire, blood spreading out and through her clothes and with Alicia bent on destroying her he didn't know. One thing he did, he would try everything he had to stop Alicia from hurting Claire.  
  
  
Even if it cost him his life…again…  
  
  
"Claire," he said, she glanced down wincing at the same time. Confusion flowed through her beautiful face, "Stop here."  
  
  
She glanced at the two metal doors, they were shut let alone it was the wrong floor, "Steve we're not there yet," she looked at him completely unaware about Alicia, he hated to look into her eyes and see her vulnerability leak out. She looked like a lost child, not really understanding why. All he wanted to do was hold her and keep her away from harm, but even that was impossible. He climbed a little bit further up behind Claire. His body gently laid into her and she could almost feel a change in him, a quite anxiousness.  
  
  
He moved closer to get to the doors, his red hair lightly brushed against her cheek, he was sad, almost to the point of helpless.  
  
  
"Don't protect me by not telling me Steve," she whispered.  
  
  
He stopped, his body staying as still as possible. She turned her head back slightly but not enough to see his face.  
  
  
"Tell me."  
  
  
He sighed and carried on pulling the doors apart, "When we get out of here I will."  
  
  
He pushed the doors apart and helped Claire to move out from the shaft and onto the corridor of the third floor. She managed to grab onto the edges and pull her self passed the doors. She sat on the floor panting, even a few inches were a struggle. Steve followed passing through the metal doors. He pulled himself up reaching out for her hand.  
  
  
"Not until you tell me," she said.  
  
  
"Claire I'm not kidding when I said that Alicia is alive! If we want to live give me your hand."  
  
  
She shook her head and stayed sitting on the cold floor, "Tell me."  
  
  
Steve sighed pushing back his hair; straight out from that pod he was thrust into chaos yet again. And now Claire wanted to know about the little voice in his head that kept telling him to kill Claire.  
  
  
He looked back down at her and stretched out his hand again, "I will tell when we're moving, please Claire I will tell you! Now get up!"  
  
  
She stared into those blue-green eyes and knew exactly if he was telling the truth or not, but somehow inside those human eyes peeked a suppressed beast longing to be awaken. She reached her hand out and grabbed onto his, "It's her," she said as they began to run down the hall, however Steve stayed quiet, it wasn't the time or place to start discussing about 'her'!   
  
  
'Why are you running Steve? There's no way to go! I control you and the beast!' she laughed deep within his mind, 'You can try and escape me but I'll always be there in the back of your mind with him! The one that is almost out from you! Claire best watch her back, because if it isn't me cutting out her heart it will be you….'  
  
  
Steve dragged Claire on, Alicia was right, he knew if they didn't find a way out soon then Claire was dead! Either by the Ashford hands…or mind, or by his. He would never want to hurt her, he loved her too much, but Alicia had a hold over the beast that hid inside of him. He knew she could call for it whenever, it was only a matter of time.  
  
  
And time was fading away fast like water seeping through his fingers onto the dusty floor. Lost forever!  
  
  
They quickly turned to an office, Steve pushed in the door still dragging Claire behind as if she was a rag doll, "Quickly," he gasped, "In here."  
  
  
Claire stumbled inside luckily not falling over herself in the process. Steve closed the door pulling a table in front of it, "Steve," whispered Claire, "We don't have much time."  
  
  
"Don't worry Claire she won't hurt you-"  
  
  
"No!" snapped Claire, "It's not Alicia," she faced him and she could see the seed of confusion washing over his face, "Chris…he and Leon have bought C4 to blow this-" she winced as a sharp spasm passed through, "this place! We haven't got much time left. I presume he and Leon have set the charges."  
  
  
Steve move forward grabbing her hand, Alicia was one thing, but this? It seemed that every way out was trapped for them. His fingers tightened round Claire's wrist. He quickly glanced at his surrounding going back was not an option maybe, just maybe if the air vents could lead them out…   
  
  
He looked up glaring carefully at the ceiling, "Ok," he said climbing a chair, "Claire we can do this!" he faced her, strong emotions were playing across his eyes. He was determined to get out alive; it wasn't going to end like last time!  
  
  
She nodded her head and walked close to him viewing the ceiling. Steve pushed up a part of the sectioned ceiling and peered inside; he glanced back at Claire and smiled, "All clear." 


	48. Not A Secret Anymore

Kitana- Nope I haven't died...yet! and I will not! Until this fanfic it complete! It might take some time BUT I WILL FINISH IT!  
  
Anyways I hope everyone is well and as always I hope you enjoy this chappy!  
  
48  
  
Alicia stood up wiping the beads of blood from her wound. She smiled quietly watching the skin of her ripped flesh repair together as if she was never stabbed before!  
  
She sighed walking into her room straightening out her dress; she frowned glaring at the bloodied tear in her most elegant white gown. She stood in front of the cracked mirror and loosened the dress letting the soft white material flutter to the floor. She smiled into the cracks of glass. Her white hair was as long as before but whiter, lighter, not golden yellow. She stared into it closely at her pupils and was almost frightened by her appearance.  
  
She began to laugh; her eyes were white and no longer crystal blue gems anymore. She felt powerful, unstoppable. She could almost taste her power within the air, hugging her naked skin tightly. Nothing could stop her, and she knew it. She was the single most powerful being on the planet.  
  
But even her mother was powerful in her time, oozing intellect and power. But even that didn't stop her from being destroyed by a pathetic human being! No she was going to be better than that, never understatement your enemies.  
  
The young girl flashed a satisfied grin to her reflection, "I'm no longer an Ashford," she whispered to herself, "What I'm I?"  
  
She turned round and glazed at the portrait of her father, Alexander, "Do you know what I am?" she asked the still painting, her creator who now was dead, "I'm no longer human or beast."  
  
She turned to the mirror once more and laughed, "Yes I know what I am," she walked closer gently touching her reflection, "I am god!"  
  
Leon raced down the hall from the elevator and into the cloning laboratory. He stopped glaring at the dead body of a man. He quickly ran to the man's side and checked his vitals already knowing that he was indeed death. He gently pushed the body over only to come face to face with Mike and a huge gapping hole in the man's chest. The red sticky blood flooded the grey corpse. Leon walked around him viewing the rest of the room; there was nothing he could do for the corpse. He looked up and saw an open pod, ice water now coating the floor just at the base of the pod door. He grasped his shotgun and held his breath walking out through a side door and down another corridor. He halted staring closely at the faraway door of a room, seeing that the door was dented and dry patches of blood lingered on the metal. He picked up the pace coming closer to an item on the floor.  
  
A grenade launcher.  
  
He bent down poking it slightly with his finger, realising in that instance that it belonged to Claire. He crouched eyeing the piece of metal and closely seeing a hand print indented within the metal. Leon stood up and walking slowly towards the door.  
  
1.2.3.  
  
He smashed open the door, weapon in hand glaring in every corner for something to attack him. He soon calmed down glancing at each of the three computer monitors. He walked to the screens reading the text.  
  
'Enter security code'  
  
"Security code," he whispered into the stillness of the room, "But no password." he sat down slowly on one of the three cushioned chairs. He laid the shotgun on his lap and watched the door quietly thinking to himself.  
  
In that instant he stood up rushing to the corridor again and back to the elevator. He only had one more floor to try and find Claire. That wasn't the only problem there was the fact that Chris was somewhere around too.  
  
But Chris was always the type of person who could look after himself with ease. Leon closed the grate of the elevator and pushed in the U4 button. He laid back into the cold surface of the elevator and waited for the metal cage to sink down deeper into the complex.  
  
The elevator stopped abruptly, Leon stood in the dim light of the bulb and watched through the metal bars into the quiet corridor just beyond the bars. His breath slowed down as if his instincts did it without any thought whatsoever. He just stood under the swinging bulb and watched the changing shadows of the light above.  
  
Something was seriously wrong within the stillness of the air; he could feel heaviness within the atmosphere, a strong essence weighing down on his lungs. He reached out towards the metal grate; hand still in the mid-air hesitant as his eyes held the darkness beyond the metal grate.  
  
Leon took a deep breath and pulled the bars aside gently sliding forward and poking his head around the sides just to be sure there wasn't anything of the 'monster' type lurking. He stopped and suddenly backed into the elevator pulling back the grate in place. He couldn't do it, there was a deep feeling inside that was telling him not to enter, but to go back.  
  
And for once he did what he felt was right and pressed the button to return to Miriam. The lift jerked as it ascended up and back to the surface. And somehow as the lift moved away from the last floor his chest felt less heavy and he didn't feel as if he was suffocating anymore. The lift halted and Leon moved out and back towards the office. He slid his back across the cool wall slowly tiptoeing to the door. His hand lay on the knob, twisting the knob slightly and pushing the wooden door in. He stopped abruptly as if his body was one step ahead from his thoughts.  
  
Inside was dark, but as the crack of light dimmed inside the room, the black stains on the floor turned red. He grasped his gun even firmly and carefully scanned what of the room he could see for her. He knew she was too hurt to move so she should have been within his sight. He stopped realising that Miriam wasn't there and that the blood stains on the floor glistened slightly to the corridors light.  
  
Fresh blood. A fresh kill, but of what? Or who?  
  
He moved in slowly, gun stretched out before him, beads of cold sweat trailed down his skin down to his chin. They tickled slightly as they moved, but he let it be, knowing that he had to focus. The trail of blood headed deeper into the dark room, deeper towards the sounds of moving liquid, as if something was.eating.  
  
He wet his lips avoiding contact with the blood drenched floor. He sidestepped over it and closer to the abnormal sounds emanating from the back of the office. And there it was, a figure clocked by the shadows bending over another figure. A still figure.  
  
He quietly moved behind it as it continued to feast on the dead body completely unaware of Leon and his fully loaded automatic.  
  
The creature stopped and turned round staring into Leon, its golden eyes were like two glowing orbs in the darkness. It seemed more catlike than Hunter, zombie or anything else.  
  
"Leon?" it whispered.  
  
Leon stood still almost in shock to say anything. An Umbrella creature capable of speech? And not only that, it knew his name?!  
  
The creature moved over the dead body and towards him, "You came back."  
  
It moved closer to the cracks of light, at the same time pushing Leon further away. He kept stepping back speechless to this talking animal, until it reached the light.  
  
He lowered his gun, almost dropping to the floor himself. He glared up at Miriam as if for the first time.  
  
Her cat like eyes drained away back to the emerald green that they were, her black hair stuck to her face as if she had emerged from water. Red water. The white of her uniform was completely red, absorbed into the material, it sucked to her like a second skin. There were only a few visible patches that were still white. Leon turned to her arm; the sleeve was completely torn apart as if something with razor sharp claws tore it.  
  
She watched him stare at her arm and followed his eyes, "The Hunter put up a fight," she paused as the awkwardness suffocated the air around them, "I thought it was too hurt to fight back." she trailed off realising that he was now staring into her face, reading her red mouth.  
  
Miriam quickly turned away wiping the blood from her lips, "I should of told you Leon.but I was scared," she turned to the Hunter on the floor, she could clearly see in her mind the blood splashing everywhere, although the Hunter didn't scream as she dug her teeth and claws into it, she knew it felt pain. He held a hand to her mouth feeling the blood and meat in her throat pushing up. She was sick, sick of what she was.whatever that was.  
  
"I never get like this," she gasped turning back to him but avoiding eye contact, "I'm not a monster."  
  
Leon stepped back leaning his forehead against the cool wall and laughed, it echoed along the air and it seemed that the sinister sounds would never cease. Miriam rubbed her arms as if his laugher were ice cold fingers running down her skin.  
  
Leon stopped abruptly and held up the gun, "What are you?" the bitterness cut through her.  
  
"I don't know," she pleaded, "But I'm not like them!" she pointed to the dead Hunter in defence.  
  
"I'm not so sure."  
  
"I don't blame you for thinking that I am like that," she gently leant back on a table and folded her arms; the wound that was killing her was no more, just smooth healed skin.  
  
"I see you have other abilities than just-" he cut off simply glaring at the ripped apart Hunter.  
  
"I have no memory of what and who I am. All I know is that I was made by Umbrella, I'm sure of that! I am human, well partly, and yet I am not. I believe Umbrella performed illegal experiments crossing animal DNA with human as well as the Mother-virus. What you see Leon is the outcome of their experiments," she laughed lightly, "Their failed experiments. I remember escaping Umbrella and almost paid with my life for it, still what do u except with Umbrella?"  
  
"So why are you here?"  
  
She finally faced him, forcing herself to see into his chocolate eyes witnessing his disgust of her, "To understand. I want the answers to the questions. A bit like yourself."  
  
He quickly shook his head, "You're nothing like me!"  
  
"I see, now you know that I'm partly feline you regard me as a monster?"  
  
He frowned slightly and moved to the dead Hunter, "I regard you as a monster because of this!"  
  
"And what was I suppose to do?! Let it kill me?!"  
  
"Of course not! But there was no need to.to.eat it!" he turned to her, "Look at yourself!"  
  
She sighed and turned from the clear anger in his face, "Leon if you only knew. There are some things that I can't control. Killing that Hunter seemed to trigger or awaken the animal in me! The blood, the deep smell of copper, the dark red of it took me over and my human side lost control. I WAS an animal until I saw you, then I remembered who I was."  
  
"And who are you?"  
  
She smiled subconsciously licking some blood off her finger, "Hopefully something more than just a monster." 


	49. Beyond All Help

Kitana- Hello everyone my apologies for a very VERY delayed update, I just lost any ideas of making this a good chapter, but as I said before I will not give up on this fanfic!!!   
  
Anyways here is Chapter 49, the latest and as always please enjoy it!  
  
^-^ mew!  
  
49  
  
The heat within the vent was too much, enough to cause Claire to faint, but she was determined to not be beaten… or such. She had Steve now, things would have to get better or what was the point of the last five months of pain and what felt like death? Her right arm and hand was still covering her wound, she was scared to move it away thinking that her vital blood would pour everywhere, like an overflowing cup, so fragile, one push or the slightest movement would tip the entire contents out. She laughed at herself, she knew she wasn't as fragile as that, but something was pulling deep inside of her that felt completely different.   
  
The air flowing through the darkened and quite heated vent was thick and heavy down within their lungs and chest. It was almost too thick to breathe it in, as if it was warm water rather than air. She turned quietly to Steve, he insisted in being behind so that her back was covered, but he was also frantic that her front wasn't covered either. In the end it was Claire who had to make the choice for him. He was still tense at the time and while she glanced at him he was still tense. His lovely face was serious, and he seemed as if he was listening to something she couldn't hear. She looked back in front of her and carried on upwards in the direction of solid ground…the surface.  
  
'Go away' he screamed within the confides of his mind. A light giggling sound merged from the darkness, taunting him, mocking him, 'LEAVE ME ALONE!' the scream seemed to echo forever in his head, bouncing from one corner to another.  
  
'I can feel him…' she purred softly, 'He doesn't want to stay locked in here anymore' she laughed feeling the heavy rage mixed with anxiousness from Steve. Her warmth flowed over his body and for a moment it felt as if she was right next to him, 'He's hungry Steve…what are you going to do about it?'  
  
He physically and mentally frowned closing his eyes tightly. He could feel it pushing from his chest, daring to come out once and for all. He opened his eyes suddenly, bleeding red. Steve shook his head and gained control again, 'GET THE FUCK OUT!'  
  
An almost ghostly hand rushed into his chest and straight into his heart pulling the beast from inside, her breath laid close to his lips, 'Or what?' it whispered. The pain cut deep and through his entire body, 'Imagine what I can really do Steve,' she laughed again pulling her ghostly hand out, 'And I'm not even here…'  
  
He squeezed his fists into balls, his nails digging into his flesh and that sharp pain almost gave him back some control. The pain was somehow making him return. He raised one fist up and smashed it into and out of the metal vent. Claire jumped back quickly turning to see what was going on.  
  
"Steve?" her eyes widening as his blood coated the metal mess. He looked up, eyes red and wild.  
  
"C-laire," he growled, "Get…o-out…"  
  
"But Stev-"  
  
"I SAID GO!"   
  
In that second she saw the event unfolding within the Antarctic base all over again. She didn't want to go; it was beginning to feel that she was losing Steve. Running from him yet again as his beast chases behind her. Claire quickly scrambled back moving with a speed and strength she didn't know she had.   
  
Steve fell forward clutching his bloodied hand, laughing at the sight of his torn flesh and blood, "NO YOU CAN'T," he cried, "YOU CAN'T!"  
  
Her ghostly image wafted around him, 'Yes I can,' she whispered, 'and soon Claire will feel what it is to become a victim of your beast, our beast…' her voice glided softly along the air, so gentle and yet so thick with deceit and hatred. He looked into that small small vent, seeing the young woman scrambling away from him. He could smell her fear as if it was a sweet perfumed scent.   
  
'Don't you feel him Steve?'  
  
He turned to her; eyes as red as blood and smiled, "I do."  
  
Her young face smiled back, 'What does he desire Steve?'  
  
He turned to that fading image of the young woman escaping and sniffed the air gently as if he was an animal on the prowl for food, "Flesh."  
  
Alicia gilded through him as if she was a warm breeze hitting him in a rush of heat. Hot and somewhat unpleasant, but also wanted, 'I suggest you go and feed him Steve,' she glanced at the girl now seeming so faraway from their reach, 'before she escapes…'  
  
Claire was scrambling up the vent as fast as humanly possible, she was scared, but not of Alicia or any kind of monster, but of Steve. Her wonderful, kind Steve. But glancing for mere seconds back, she could see that Steve was fading away from the shell that looked so much like him. All that came to her mind was him turning into that beast and leaving her forever. Selfish that is was, but she couldn't cope with life without him. But as she contemplated her situation, it was her who was about to get killed and fade, Steve was dangling by a thread…  
  
Steve began to move, but slowly, as if he was beginning to stalk his prey. Play with her a little before sinking his teeth into that pale warm flesh of hers. It didn't matter if she was too far away or not even there, her scent coated the entire vent, the air was her. He wouldn't lose her, not until he killed her.  
  
Alicia's ghostly image disappeared, only her sweet voice held him close, kept him knowing that she was there and would never leave. He knew deep down that this was a bad thing, but somehow he didn't care. He just wanted to be fed, to feed that monster that was so close to clawing out of his skin.   
  
As if it was another body inside of him!   
  
'Why do you resist so?'  
  
Steve stopped, "Because I'm not like you," he tried to believe his words but that foul beast lurking so close under his skin made him think otherwise. He clenched his hand clawing his nails into the silver metal. He quickly looked down at his hands seeing his human nails form into long black ones. He slowly lifted up his hand to his face and sat there in the extreme heat.  
  
'I told you Steve, he's coming'  
  
He let out a cold laugh, flooding that narrow vent with his sinister voice. He was truly amused, but at what he didn't know, maybe he was losing what sanity he had left. It had to be trapped within this hell and being tormented by an Ashford… yet again! He abruptly cut short the laugher and glared down at his nails, flexing his fingers in and out memorized by the look of them extending from his skin, they almost looked as if they weren't his. He placed one tip of his nail on the metal and pressed down dragging his hand back.   
  
The echo of metal scratching erupted within the narrow vent cutting out that dead silence and replacing it with that awful sound. Claire stopped and glimpsed back shuddering as that sound touched her ears, sending chills down her spine. His laugh was still drumming within her head, why was he acting like this? What was he doing?!? She reached the end of the tunnel and through the thin lines of the grate…light; she quickly turned round as much as she could and kicked out the grate. It crashed to the floor and Claire jumped out stilling holding onto her stomach.  
  
Steve quickly turned to the distant light in front of him, he was no longer caring or even interested with his claws but with the distant smell of blood. The copper smell was getting thicker and thicker as it came to him through that sticky hot air. He started forward forgetting who was driving the beast from inside him, forgetting why he was there or where he was heading to… Just the need for the flesh and blood was urging him to go and eat, to go and satisfy that longing, to go and kill!  
  
He rushed forward charging, dragging his body through the narrowness to that bright light ahead. He wasn't going to let his prey go, he wasn't going to lose this kill.   
  
He wouldn't! His beast demanded for it!  
  
As Claire escaped from the vent she quickly began running away, as far as possible even though within her heart it was pleading with her to think it through, it was Steve after all and he wouldn't do anything to harm her. But some logic within her brain thought otherwise, yes Steve stopped himself from falling into darkness back in the Antarctic base, but what about now? She dashed that thought away and kept on running… for a few seconds the thought of Steve a danger escaped her mind as she wondered where the hell she was…  
  
The long corridor that she entered was covered in smoke, no it was dust. She coughed slightly running past what seemed to rumble and into a clear patch where she finally saw the elevator with the broken door.   
  
The one which would take her up towards the surface.   
  
Claire quickly pressed the button, glaring behind her every second to see if Steve was rampaging down to her. It was taking forever just for the lift to come to her, she was on edge and didn't want to be standing in a end dead waiting like a weak animal to be slaughter by the man she loved. The lift finally came and she quickly moved in pressing the small button labelled 'GF' more then once, feeling almost naked without any covering or even a gun. She glared anxiously into the dust filled corridor ahead of her searching for any signs of movement within the whiteness.  
  
The lift began moving, her heart seemed to deflate and her breathing came back long and slow. She leant against the lift feeling the coolness sink into her damp top, she sighed, hand still clasped round her stomach and closed her eyes.   
  
Steve sniffed the white air as he passed the rumble silently stalking the corridor following the invisible trail straight to Claire. That small voice in his head was fading away with every step he took, and only the urge, the painful urges of his beast lingered behind. He moved closer claws digging into the whitewashed walls, trailing them behind leaving dim lines of red against the bright whiteness of the walls.  
  
That ghostly girl that he kept on seeing within the air vents disappeared, but he could feel her coming closer and closer towards him. Her distant presence almost like a feel of heat raging from deep red flames. He moved to the elevator glaring in the shaft, he moved more closely stepping inside and looking up at the moving lift, he closed his eyes gently sniffing the air and grinned showing slight fangs on the tip of his bottom lip.   
  
He knew exactly where she was.   
  
Huddled in the corner panting just like a helpless creature after a chase, waiting for her predator to come and cut short her existence. He laughed quietly finding it all so amusing, finding the hunt quite entertaining. Images of blood dripping down her flesh as she struggled and screamed for help and yet none would ever come. He could taste her hot blood trickling down his throat as if it were syrup, sweet and yet pungent. He inadvertently licked his lips and jumped forward sinking those black claws of his into the shaft and started to climb up towards the lift.  
  
Claire jerked forward breaking free of that peaceful thought as the sounds of banging came towards her. She stepped all the way back into the corner of the lift and listened. What could she do? Nothing, there was no way off this ride until it stopped, but it didn't seem as if it was close to the surface yet. Suddenly as if it never happened the banging stopped, she stepped forward hating the closed space, no place to hide, no where to move if something bad was about to go down. Claire stopped dead centre in the middle of the lift, quiet, desperately listening to any kind of sound, anything that would tell her something…  
  
The lift shifted almost as if it was about to drop back down to the pits of hell, Claire fell back into the corner aching all over glaring at what seemed to be black spikes coming from the floor of the lift. She moved across the elevator, back against the wall and breathing as quietly as possible. The metal at where the spikes where creaked sending a painful sound out. She quickly covered her ears hunching down to her heels, "SHUT UP!!" she screamed.  
  
Steve, underneath the lift only dangling but his claws, smirked. He pulled his right hand out releasing the claws from the metal and with a great force he swung his hand round and propelled it through and into the bottom of the lift.  
  
Claire jumped back, "STOP IT!" she screamed at the hand, fear flooding into her system like a tidal wave.  
  
Steve smiled, blood dripping down his arms where the metal cut deep into his flesh, "Ah come on Claire, it's me…" he laughed loudly for Claire to hear, "Now would I hurt you?" 


	50. Unfated Destiny

**50**

Steve tore the metal as if it was mere foil, his red eyes glaring into the lift straight at Claire; she was right in the corner brown eyes wide and scared, like a hopeless animal. Steve grunted a half laugh as he pulled himself up and into the lift with her.

She didn't want to move or do anything; her heart was frantic, pumping hard as if it was about to explode out of her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't the words wouldn't come out. He looked frightful and so close to her, there was no way out.

No way!

Steve smiled, "You ok Claire?" he rushed forward almost shoving her back into the wall, "You look pale..." his hands slammed in-between her head missing her by inches, he did it on purpose. He wanted to prolong her agony, her torment. His claws dug into the wall, his body so close to hers, she looked from his face staring at his blood stained clothes. She didn't want to see into his eyes, she didn't want to see that Steve was gone and replaced by something else.

"Look at me," he ordered.

Claire stayed silent, eyes still glaring into the material, something to stare at while he was there.

"LOOK AT ME!" he roared, she almost jumped tears now falling down her cheeks. She glanced up into the red eyes, black silts as pupils staring back at her, "That's better," he whispered his mouth turning into a satisfied smile, "That's my Claire."

He pulled his right hand out of the wall, black claws tearing the metal as it was released. Claire didn't dare move or lose contact with his eyes, he didn't seem to like that and she didn't want to make him angrier than he already was. He moved the tip of one claw to her face, pushing strands of her damp hair from her eyes and very gently tracing the tip of his claw down her cheek. He deliberately pushed the sharp tip in slightly causing a small cut into her skin, the blood filled up and poured down her cheek. She gasped as the pain came in stinging sensations. He smirked, "Your so beautiful Claire," he said moving his body more and more closer to hers, "You smell.." he slightly closed his eyes sniffing the air around her hair, moving closer to her lips taking in the warm air around her mouth, "...divine," he simply said.

He opened his eyes fully again and glazed into her face, she didn't know what was going on in his mind. She prayed for a miracle something deep within his mind for her Steve to resurface, to help her.

She needed help! She needed Steve!

"You know you drive me crazy?" there and then it almost appeared as if Steve was back again and that ghastly beast was gone, "You know I can't stop thinking about you. I would kill anyone for you. I would kill myself for you if you asked."

"Please," she murmured.

He smiled, interested in what she had to say, "What is it?"

Claire gulped gaining her voice back, "Please Steve," she whispered through tears, "Let me go..."

He laughed, gently placing a small kiss on her lips, "How could I?" he whispered over her lips, "I love you too much." He settled his head on her chest, eyes closed and for a moment it looked as if everything went back to how it should be. She raised a hand stroking back his slick hair feeling the warmth of his body through her, tears falling down her face like rain. She couldn't stop herself because she knew this peacefulness wouldn't stay forever, she wanted to enjoy whatever there was of that moment before reality came back.

'What are you waiting for?' Alicia stood close to Steve, her body pressed into his side, he opened his eyes to her, 'Do you see it in her eyes?' she said, her lips spreading into a wicked grin. She leaned close to his ear, soft lips lying close to his earlobe, 'She wants you to kill her Steve... she wants you to rip her into pieces,' she laughed, 'why are you denying her wish?'

Steve looked up to Claire, such a fragile woman, her love encasing him in a hot blanket. Something inside wanted that blanket to end, it wanted something else. It wanted her fear to come flooding back; he turned back to the ghostly girl and narrowed eyes, "I don't need you to tell me anything!"

'Then why don't you kill her?'

He frowned, confused with what she was saying, he stared back at Claire and something inside ached. He so badly wanted to drink from her, to taste her but something; another part of him was forcing it all back. He suddenly wrapped his claws round Claire's neck, gently as not to cut her and pushed her slightly into the wall.

Alicia stepped back walking to the other side of him, 'O I see,' she smirked, 'You still 'love' her...'

"NO!" he yelled, "I...I don't know...!"

Alicia's pleasant face turned, her childlike features seemed to twist into a demonic beast, 'That's what she wants you to think!' she spat, 'If she wasn't so weak, she would of killed you along time ago!' Her evil face didn't seem to change, with her anger the small lift seemed to increase in heat. Steve watched her, 'She doesn't care about you Steve! She never had! NEVER!' she moved to him ghostly hands wrapping round his waist, 'I'm the only one who cares, I'm the only one my son. I gave you life again...'

He looked at her, "I know... mother..."

'Then why won't you kill her! Show me that you love me and not her by killing her! End it!' her warmth, quickly as she came, vanished.

The lift came to a halt; the outer doors opened showing the entrance hall to the building

Though Claire was filled with fear some part of her mind was thinking, the wheel was turning. The doors to her left were screaming out freedom. She quickly glanced to the doors and back to Steve, he was confused or hesitant to follow out the voices that plagued his mind. Claire stopped and used what time she had to calm her body, to calm her mind and think.

"Don't listen to them," she tried saying calmly. "They are trying to hurt you."

He looked in her eyes.

"You know I would never hurt you Steve," she swallowed. "I've waited for you for so long. If I didn't love you why have I waited when everyone said you were dead?"

Tears formed into his eyes. "Claire," he grunted. "Claire…. Help me."

"Let me go and we can leave this place forever," she pleaded.

"Mother… she needs me."

"Steve, she isn't your mother. She died. Do you remember what Umbrella did to you? To your mother? Your father?"

"Father?" He remembered something. Bullets ripping into his father's flesh. His father had lost control. No! His father had changed. He had to kill his own father because of Umbrella.

The rage bubbled up, his grip loosening around Claire's throat. He gently took hold of her waist and held her within his arms. "I'm so sorry Claire," he whispered. He carried her out into the foyer placing her down on the floor. His beastly shape shrinking as the real Steve came back. He held out his hand, his face sombre. "Give me the counter virus Claire."

"What?" was all that came out.

"The counter virus Claire. Give it to me."

She fumbled in her pockets taking out the hypodermic needle and syringe.

"We can't fight her together Claire. She's too strong."

"What about you? This is your chance in becoming human again."

He smiled, though his eyes held the sadness of losing his one chance. "I know, but Claire if I don't do something to stop her then we can never escape this hell hole alive. Please try not to worry." His features lighten. He tilted his head to the side and gave her a reassuring smile, "I'll be fine and dandy. I won't die. Not again."

She grabbed his arm. "Is that a promise you'll keep?"

He knelt down gathering her into his arms. "It is, Claire." He let her go his eyes taking her in. "Never again will you grieve my death Claire. I promise you that." He slowly kissed her lips before picking his self up and turning back into the elevator.

He looked back at her still smiling. "Now head for safety Claire. I'll be back in a few."

She watched as the doors closed and with that Steve disappeared again.

She only hoped not from her life.

-------------------------------------------

Ok that was the end of chapter 50. I had this on me for a while (apologies for not posting it sooner).

I mainly wanted to let everyone know (though I am sure most have given up on this story in which I don't blame ya!) I have created a sub website in which the new version of this fan fiction is going to be displayed. I am still unsure about the layout of the new site… but over time it will be changed. I have already rewritten 8 chapters that span 38 pages. So if you want to read the newer version (with a new title I might add) go here: "www(DOT)caliginous-rose(DOT)net(FORWARD SLASH)resi"

I am not sure if I will complete this older version of the fan fiction, I have a lot to do on the newer one. I'm lazy too, but this story is always at the back on my mind so I don't think I'll ever give up on it. Even if I'm at the grand age of 50 and it is still incomplete, I'll be finishing it off

Thank you Heart of Dreams, for the emails and the comments. I suppose you are the one that has spurred me to get my act together. Thank you.

Also thank you to everyone that had commented. I really do appreciate it.

Apologies for lateness and I hope you enjoy….. the rest of the story.

Melissa (Ashura Gend)


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